Alternative Data
by Rowena Zahnrei
Summary: Inspired by the episode "Masks" and Norse mythology. Following his experience with the D'Arsay archive that forced him to play unwilling host to thousands of alien personalities, Data suffers a life-threatening malfunction. Could the mysterious arrival of a human genius with Data's looks help crack the puzzles of Data's malfunction, the D'Arsay archive, and the being known as Ihat?
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ or any of the characters therein, although there may perhaps be some alternate universe...

**Author's Note:** I shouldn't do this. I really should not do this. I have too many unfinished stories to finish as it is, not to mention the supremely important matter of my degree, the completion of which is currently my life's highest priority. However, being an obsessive nut, when an idea lodges itself in my head it refuses to let go until I take action. And so, against all reason, I am now compelled to post this: the Seventieth story I have shared on this site. Yeah, I can't believe it either. 70. This is my 70th story here. Wow...

I should explain a bit about this story before it begins. I wrote the initial draft in the back of my math notebook at the start of seventh grade. It was simple and a little silly: I just wanted to see what would happen if Data met a human version of himself from an alternate reality and how they would get along. It was going OK until I realized the story was basically a long conversation and it didn't really have a plot so it had nowhere to go. With nowhere to go, it had no way to end and so it just sat there, frustratingly unfinished. I left it alone for a long time, intending to come back to it once I'd found it a plot, but after several attempts spread out over several years, it still lacked any real direction.

But now, after going back through and fixing up some of my old files, I think I've finally found it a direction.

This story will be a little strange. It's something of a hodgepodge of several different unfinished story ideas tied together by a question inspired by the episode "Masks," and if you've seen that episode you'll know it inspires a lot of questions. While the main idea is to get Data to meet and interact with an alternate version of himself, the plot is driven by quite a different topic. With this story, I intend to investigate the intriguing character Ihat. What if the Ihat persona that took over Data in "Masks" didn't entirely disappear? What if, when Masaka found him, he hid himself so completely he avoided not only capture but also erasure?

I always finish my stories, no matter how long it takes, but I'll be honest: there will likely be some long waits between updates. This is a weird old story and its threads need to be handled gently so they don't break or end up in an incomprehensible tangle. That sort of stuff takes time and attention and, right now, I can't promise this story either. Still, I think it's finally ready to share. Your reviews really mean a lot to me - in fact, the fantastic reviews I got on my other ST:TNG stories prompted me to finally find this poor story a plot! - so, if you review, I will be forever grateful! :)

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy my story!

**Alternative Data**

**By Rowena Zahnrei**

**Chapter One **

Lieutenant Commander Data strode purposefully into the transporter room of the small Starfleet base. The young Atrean ensign in charge of the transporter controls looked up, then smiled.

"Did you enjoy your leave, Commander?"

It took Data a moment to respond. Ensign Igmar noticed the commander's expression seemed forced, as though he was making a conscious effort to appear calm and composed. When he finally spoke, his voice had the same forced calmness as his face. Igmar's smile quickly dropped to an expression of concern.

"Yes. Yes, Ensign," he said. "It was very good to have a chance to see my mother again. Particularly after such a harrowing experience."

"But something's wrong," Igmar blurted. "It's not just your experience with the Borg."

Data stared at her. She felt herself blushing at her forwardness, but she had to go on.

"I don't mean to pry, Commander, but you seem so, well, reserved this morning. Not at all like your usual self. Even when you first arrived here, you were not so...withdrawn."

Data shook his head with a small smile.

"Is it that obvious? I should have known better than to try to conceal my emotions. Commander Riker is always telling me I need to work on my poker face."

He took a deep, shaky breath. As he did, his eyes started to brim with tears. He blinked hard, then turned to Ensign Igmar.

"My father," he explained. "He had been unwell for so long. I should have expected..."

He stopped, took another shaky breath, then began again.

"My father is dead," he explained in a flat, matter-of-fact tone. "I can only comfort myself with the gratitude I feel that I was able to say good-bye, and to be there to comfort my mother. His funeral was yesterday."

He sniffed sharply, then briskly rubbed his nose.

"I apologize, Ensign. I did not mean to trouble you with my personal concerns. If you would be so good as to operate the controls, I am ready to beam back to the _Enterprise_."

Yvette Igmar looked at him standing there, and her heart went out to him.

"Oh, Commander, I am so sorry. First the Borg and now this. And poor Dr. O'Donnell. Your parents and mine have been neighbors for so long. I should go see her."

"I believe my mother would appreciate that, Ensign. Thank you for your concern."

Ensign Igmar could feel herself blushing again and looked down at her control board. As she did, a red light began to flash.

"Commander, the _Enterprise _is hailing you."

"Oh, yes. I must have forgotten to reactivate my communicator after the service. Thank you, Ensign."

Data slapped the combadge on his chest.

"Data to _Enterprise._"

"Commander," came Captain Picard's cultured voice, "we have been trying to reach you. Are you ready to beam aboard?"

"I am, sir."

"Good. Then please meet me in my ready room once you have settled in. Our new orders have just arrived from Starfleet and I wish to discuss them with you."

"I am on my way, sir."

"Oh, and Commander..."

"Yes, sir?"

"I am very sorry to hear about your father. I do hope your mother-"

Ensign Igmar watched, her heart aching with sympathy, as Data squeezed his eyes shut, then slowly opened them again.

"She is fine, Captain. My father had been ill for a very long time. He was in a great deal of pain. She has chosen to see his death as a blessing, rather than as a tragedy."

"She is a very brave woman, your mother."

"Yes, Captain. I know. And I am pleased to hear you sounding so well."

"Yes. Thank you, Data. I spent my leave with my brother and his family. It was quite a...healing experience. Well, I will await your arrival at your convenience. Picard out."

Data stepped up onto the transporter platform and turned to face Ensign Igmar.

"Perhaps I will see you on my next leave, Ensign."

"I'll be here, sir."

"Good-bye, then, Yvette."

Yvette had to hold her breath to still her reaction. He knew her first name. She breathed deeply to slow her racing heart. She'd had a crush on Daniel Soong since she had first seen him five years ago, that perfect summer day the year before she'd entered Starfleet Academy. He'd been spending his leave visiting his parents, as he usually did, and had helped her repair the tire of her bicycle. Bicycles were admittedly primitive vehicles, but they remained enormously popular among Atrean youth.

She sighed. Such a shame he was already married.

"Good-bye, sir," she said, forcing herself to sound businesslike and professional. "Preparing for transport."

She activated the transporter beam and watched as the slender man dematerialized into innumerable sparkles of light and energy. She had just glanced at her control monitor to confirm his safe arrival on the _Enterprise _when her own combadge sounded.

"_Enterprise _to Atrean Starfleet Base. We are still waiting to receive Commander Soong."

A wave of panic rushed over her. They hadn't received him? That was impossible. There was no way the transporter could have malfunctioned. She had plotted the coordinates correctly; the _Enterprise_ should have received him without a problem.

"This is Ensign Igmar. Lt. Commander Soong beamed over to Transporter Room Three barely fifteen seconds ago. He must be there."

"Commander Soong has not rematerialized on board the _Enterprise_. Please check your pattern buffer to ensure the transport cycle was completed."

Ensign Igmar bristled at the man's tone, but her fingers fairly flew across her board as she checked and rechecked her transporter records. They all read that the cycle had been successfully completed. Lt. Commander Daniel 'Data' Soong had rematerialized aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ 1701-D at 1043 hours, Atrean time. She told the _Enterprise_ so, then demanded that a full inquiry be made into Data's disappearance.

Twelve hours later, after an extensive and grueling examination of all systems, Data's best friend – and possibly the best engineering mind in Starfleet – Lt. Commander Geordi LaForge, was forced to make the pronouncement. His voice was husky with emotion as he reported to the stunned _Enterprise_ command crew, "I'm afraid he's gone, sirs. Lt. Commander Data Soong has been lost."

Yvette couldn't believe her ears. She looked down at her hands, the hands responsible for operating the controls that had killed him, and sank to her knees. LaForge came over to her and placed a kindly hand on her shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Ensign. You did everything right. I can't for the life of me figure out what went wrong, or why!"

"Oh, Commander LaForge," Yvette sobbed. "What am I going to tell his mother now? She just lost her husband, and now I have to tell her that her only son is dead! And what of his wife and daughter?"

"I don't know, Ensign," LaForge said. "But I will promise you this. We'll get to the bottom of this tragedy if I have to devote the rest of my career to doing it!"

_To Be Continued..._

_References include TNG episodes "Brothers," "Family," "Inheritance," and "Best of Both Worlds."_


	2. Chapter Two

Thank you! :) Here's Ch.2, which is pretty much the last of the directly cobbled together, pre-written bits. There are a few more pre-written sections, but the rest of this story will be mostly new stuff just loosely inspired by unfinished old files. Hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter Two**

Lt. Commander Data rematerialized in Transporter Room Three, only to find the room deserted and the lights dimmed, as if his arrival had not been expected. Many of the regular crew were still on leave, though, so he didn't let it worry him. He was too preoccupied with his own thoughts. Walking swiftly, he left the transporter room and headed for the turbolift, planning to deposit his travel bag in his quarters before reporting to the captain as ordered.

"Deck Eight," he said.

The turbolift doors opened to a corridor that seemed, somehow, different than he remembered. But no, there was the same pale blue carpet, the same rows of terra cotta doors. Shaking off the odd feeling, Data strode the familiar route to his door, only to stop just short of slamming into it.

"Computer, unlock door!" he said.

"An authorization code is required to override the privacy lock," the computer stated.

"What do you—" Data started, then blinked in alarm. The names on the door… Lts. Ann and Alan Hildebrant…

A wave of disorientation swept over him and he spun around, looking up and down the corridor.

"Computer, what deck is this?"

"Deck Eight," the computer replied.

"Locate the Soong family's quarters."

"There is no Soong family registered."

"Not registered!" he exclaimed. "Computer, where the hell are my quarters!"

"Voice print identified. Lt. Commander Data, your quarters are located on Deck Two, room 3653."

"Deck Two…?"

Data frowned. Squeezing the strap of his travel case, he strode back to the turbolift and instructed it to take him straight to the bridge. He knew the _Enterprise_ had been in dire need of repair after its face-off with the Borg in sector 001, but he could not believe that a refit extensive enough to necessitate the actual relocation of officers' quarters could have been carried out in only three weeks.

The turbolift came to a nearly imperceptible stop and the doors slid smoothly open. Data stepped out onto a bridge manned by totally unfamiliar people; most likely new transfers. Fighting to reign in his temper, he stepped up to the young officer standing at the tactical station.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant, but I-" he began, only to blink and step back as the officer advanced on him.

"Who are you?" the man demanded. "I don't remember being informed that anyone was expected to arrive on board this morning."

Data straightened, meeting the officer glare for glare.

"What is this, an interrogation? I was scheduled to arrive last night, but Captain Picard granted me an extension because of the funeral-"

"The funeral? Why didn't you say so?"

The security officer's entire menacing demeanor changed. His steely gray eyes filled with compassion and his voice softened considerably.

"Then you want the Officer's Lounge at Ten Forward. That's where you'll find Captain Picard. Do you require an escort, sir?"

The question caught Data a bit off balance. This officer clearly didn't recognize him, which was very strange. Data was the second officer aboard the_ Enterprise_, the third in command after the captain and Commander Riker_. _Even a newly transferred officer should have recognized him, especially a security officer.

"No, I believe I can find my way," he said.

"Allow me to offer my condolences, sir. Were you a friend of the deceased?"

Data stepped into the turbolift and regarded the security officer, wondering how he had ever made it to the rank of lieutenant.

"You might say that. I was his son."

The turbolift doors closed on the security officer's stunned expression. Data shook his head. He would have to speak to the captain about that man's bridge assignment.

The doors to Ten Forward seemed familiar enough, but as he approached them he heard upbeat music and chatter wafting into the corridor. A strange, surreal feeling crept over him.

"What is going on here?" he asked out loud, to no one in particular. To his surprise, the computer answered.

"The function in Ten Forward is a memorial reception for Lieutenant Commander Data."

"What?!" Data exclaimed. "A memorial reception? But, there must be a misunderstanding. _I'm_ not dead. My father is!"

He shook his head, the strap of his bag digging painfully into his palm.

"Has the whole _universe_ gone mad today? Or, perhaps this is some kind of practical joke? If it is, let me assure you that I am not laughing."

"Humor is not a part of my program," the computer informed him.

"Oh, shut up," Data snapped. "You sound like one of my father's prototype androids!"

He charged into the room, intent on locating the captain and getting some answers. After only a few purposeful steps, however, his charge changed into an amazed sort of wandering stroll as he observed the wild party raging in the crowded room.

White and black balloons were everywhere, as were hundreds of pure white, sweet-scented lilies. Data spotted Commander Riker standing before a small gathering of seated musicians on a raised platform in the center of the room playing his trombone with such intensity and passion that he seemed oblivious to everything but his music. The sounds of jazz, laughter, and tinkling glasses filled the air. Data stopped his movement and stood as if rooted to the spot.

"I can't believe it," he said, his eyes wide with the effort of taking it all in. "They think I'm dead and they're having a party?"

The crowd parted for a moment and Data was able to spot the distinguished features of Captain Picard. The captain stood by one of the many viewport windows that made Ten Forward such a popular recreational area talking quietly with Dr. Beverly Crusher, Counselor Deanna Troi, Lt. Worf, and Chief Engineer Geordi LaForge. They all seemed slightly more careworn than he remembered, particularly Deanna, who was dressed in a blue Starfleet uniform rather than the more informal outfit she usually wore.

Data carefully pushed his way through the crowd. No one gave him a more than cursory glance and no one seemed to recognize him, though he recognized a few of them. When he was within earshot of the group's conversation, he stopped his advance, deciding it would probably be better to listen in for a while before approaching the group directly.

"Yes, Geordi, I do think Data would have approved," Counselor Troi was saying to the morose engineer.

Dr. Crusher spoke up. "After all, this is exactly the kind of reception Data set up when we all thought that you and Ro were dead. He said it best himself then: he wanted to celebrate your lives rather than mourn your deaths. I think he would want us to do the same for him."

The captain nodded. "I agree, Doctor. Geordi, Data couldn't have asked for a better funeral."

Geordi smiled sadly.

"Thanks, Captain. But, I still can't shake the feeling that all this is premature. I mean, maybe it's just my own experience, being phased and cloaked while everyone around me believed I was dead, but I keep thinking there's got to be more we can do, something we're missing. The system failure struck so suddenly…it's—" He sighed and hung his head. "It's just so hard for me to accept that he's really gone, you know? I always thought..."

"That he would outlive us all," Deanna finished his thought.

The small group nodded and turned their gaze to the starfield before them.

Data understood now, all too well. This was no joke. These people were truly hurting over the loss of their dear friend. And, what was more, he was certain that, although these people looked, talked, and acted like his own friends, he had never met them before.

Feeling overwhelmed, and more than a little frightened, Data drew back into the crowd – until a sharp tap on his shoulder made him jump nearly out of his skin.

"I'm sorry," he exclaimed, grabbing onto a nearby table to keep from stumbling backwards.

"No, it's my fault for startling you," said a calm voice.

Data looked up and his eyes widened with recognition.

"Guinan?"

"Yes, that's right. I run Ten Forward. I was just coming over to ask if you'd like a drink. You seemed to need one."

Data stared at her, wondering if she knew who he was. The Guinan he knew could always perceive whenever something out of the ordinary was taking place aboard the _Enterprise_. He hoped this Guinan was the same way.

"Why don't you step over to the bar," she invited him with a small wave of her hand. "You look like someone who needs to talk. And, as anyone here will tell you, I'm an excellent listener."

"Thank you," he said gratefully, following her through the chattering crowd toward the bar at the opposite end of the room. By some amazing stroke of luck, there was a free stool right at the end of the bar where he and Guinan could converse in relative privacy. He took a seat as Guinan poured a green liquid into a shot glass, then slid it over to him. Data looked it over, then took a deep sniff. He looked up at Guinan quizzically.

"What is this?"

Guinan gave him a small smile.

"It's green. I think you'll like it."

Data nodded, then took a small sip. He brightened and downed the shot.

"Thank you," he said. "I can't tell you how much I needed that."

Guinan smiled again, broader this time, and refilled the little glass.

"You're not from around here, are you," she asked.

"I have just reached that same conclusion," Data agreed, understanding what she meant. "Yet, I suspect this universe is closely parallel to my own."

Guinan nodded. "So, any idea how you got here?"

Data furrowed his brow.

"I believe," he said hesitantly, "that there must have been some sort of transporter malfunction in my own universe. I was beaming back to my _Enterprise_ from Atrea, where my parents have lived for the past eight years, and I found myself in an abandoned transporter room aboard this very ship. You see here, I still have my travel case with me."

He held up the small bag he had carried with him all this time.

Guinan nodded knowingly. "I have a pretty good theory as to how you got here, but it doesn't have to do with any transporter accident."

"What do you mean?" asked Data.

"I mean we're going to have to tell the captain about all this." Guinan looked concerned. "I don't know how he's going to take it, so soon after Data's loss, but it must be done. I'm sure you want to be getting back to your own reality."

"Of course I do. I've been away from my wife and daughter for nearly a month, and I miss them both dreadfully."

Data cast a glance around the crowded room, then turned back to Guinan.

"Speaking of Tasha and Lal, I don't see them here. Do they not have counterparts in this universe?"

Guinan's expression softened.

"Your name is Data too, isn't it?"

Data smiled a bit sheepishly.

"Actually, it's Daniel. Danny Soong. But, when I was a very young child, my father discovered I have a near-perfect photographic memory, so he used me as 'his little database' - Data, get it? The name's stuck ever since. I've been told it suits me. Whether that's a good thing…"

He shrugged and took another sip of his green beverage.

Guinan smiled. "I suppose there are worse nicknames."

Data grinned and downed the last of his drink. The warmth spread through him, encouraging his talkative side.

"Oh, there certainly are. My father had one of the worst. He was called 'Often Wrong Soong' by the colonists on Omicron Theta, where I was born. That's one of most terrible nicknames I've ever heard. It's insulting to his brilliance, and it doesn't even rhyme. The colonists seemed to think it clever, though. I won't pretend to understand."

Guinan looked up, her pleasant expression tightening.

"Here comes the captain," she said.

Data felt his back stiffen, suddenly overcome with the sense that his presence was grossly inappropriate. This was a group of anguished people, all gathered together to remember a fallen comrade, and here he was, a counterpart from another universe-identical to their own Data for all he knew-who could only freshen the pain of the loss. He brought his glass to his lips, then realized it was empty and placed it quickly back on the counter.

"Captain Picard," said Guinan in her most gracious hostess voice.

"Hello, Guinan."

Data did not turn to look at the captain, afraid of what might happen if he was recognized. He listened as Captain Picard sighed the kind of deep, shaky sigh that Data had sighed himself in the Atrean base's transporter room barely an hour before. He marveled at how drastically his situation had changed in such a short time.

"I believe I need a refill," the captain said, clinking his glass down on the shiny countertop.

"Then, I believe you and this gentleman here are in the same state. I also believe you ordered the same drink. Aldebaran whiskey, right?"

For the first time, Captain Picard noticed the man sitting on the bar stool next to him. His brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought I had introduced myself to all the new members of the _Enterprise_, but I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

Data turned to him and cocked his head slightly to the side, confused.

"No? But I thought-"

The captain let out a sharp gasp.

"Data…!"

It was barely above a whisper, but it seemed to cut through all the nose and hubbub in the room. All eyes turned to where he and the captain were sitting. Under such intense scrutiny from so many people, Data found himself wishing he could melt away through the floor.

The captain stared at Data in wide-eyed disbelief, his mouth moving without words.

"But, how-?" he eventually managed. He swallowed, shook his head, and tried to collect his thoughts.

Data just sat there, uncertain what to say and feeling like a prize turkey on display in a shop window. When the captain turned to him again, his gaze was sharp and intense.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you get here?"

Before Data could answer, he was interrupted by Geordi, who just then burst through the crowd, followed closely by Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, and Dr. Crusher.

"Data!" Geordi exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Data, is it really YOU? I knew you couldn't really be dead!"

The excitement in Geordi's voice faded somewhat, replaced by confusion as he looked Data over…probably scanning him with every setting of his VISOR-enhanced vision, Data thought.

"But, you look perfectly human! How did this happen?"

Data stared at him, a cold, eerie suspicion crawling up his spine. A suspicion he didn't really want to contemplate. "Nothing happened, Geordi. I have always been human."

Picard turned his sharp gaze to Guinan.

"Guinan, I demand to know what this is all about."

Guinan raised her hands in defense.

"I'm not completely sure myself. But he is real, and he is here. And, he's going to need your help to get back home."

Picard looked enlightened, but still suspicious. Data attempted a smile.

"I do recognize that this is an exceptionally awkward situation, sir, and I do not wish to cause any of you further discomfort, but you must believe it was not my intention to come here. My name is Danny Soong, but people have always called me Data."

Picard straightened.

"Well, Mr. …Soong?"

"_Dr._ Soong, actually," Data corrected. "I hold doctorates in exobiology and probability mechanics. But I prefer 'Data.' 'Dr. Soong' was my father, and he and I… Let's just say we've had a somewhat rocky relationship."

"Very well then, Data," Picard said awkwardly. "Since it appears you're going to be a guest here, I'll see about assigning you some quarters." He nodded to Riker, who stepped away to arrange it via his combadge. "I'm sure you'd like the chance to…" He glanced at Data's suitcase, "…unpack."

"Thank you, sir," Data said and took a breath, resolving to confront his suspicion head-on. "And, if I'm not out of line, may I inquire… Was my counterpart here…an android?"

"Yeah," Geordi said, sounding a little defensive. "He was a good man."

Data nodded, struggling not to let the squirmy discomfort in his gut show on his face. "I see. Thank you. And you say he suffered…a system failure?"

"That's right." Geordi frowned. "You don't seem surprised."

"No," Data said, his voice completely flat. "I am not. If you all will please excuse me, I am extremely tired. I have no wish to trouble you, but if you could tell me where…"

"It's no trouble, Commander," Picard said, and turned to Riker. "Number One, will you please show Dr. So— Commander Data…to his quarters."

Riker nodded and headed for the door. "This way, Commander."

_To Be Continued…_

_References include TNG episodes "The Next Phase," "Datalore," and "Relics" and TOS episode "By Any Other Name."_


	3. Chapter Three

Hi! Thanks! I'm aiming to finish my degree this year, hopefully this summer, but I've got so much more to do... Wish me luck! :)

Hope you enjoy this next chapter! Thanks so much for your encouraging reviews! :)

**Chapter Three**

Riker slid his eyes over to the newcomer as they stood together in the turbolift, trying to observe him without seeming too obvious about it. Despite his fair, human skin tone, it was uncanny how close a match this man was for the Data he knew. He had the same height, same build, the same features…even the same swept-back hairstyle. But what Riker really found disconcerting was how this man walked and held himself like Data: his posture a little too straight, his stride just slightly too rigid, his alert blue eyes seeming to analyze and process all he saw.

"Sir?"

Riker blinked and straightened, a little embarrassed he'd been caught gawping.

"Yes…uh, Data…"

"I couldn't help but notice that you have been staring at me since we entered the turbolift. Is there something you wish to ask me?"

"Well, it's just…"

The doors opened and Riker led the way into the corridor. The man followed, easily keeping up with Riker's ground-eating stride.

"Just what, sir?"

Riker glanced down at him, fully unsettled by the man's open, curious expression. It was just so…Data. The man lowered his eyes.

"I get the impression that my presence disturbs you," he said in Data's voice.

"Not at all," Riker insisted, a little too brusquely, and stopped short outside the larger of the ship's vacant VIP quarters. The man blinked in surprise.

"You are putting me here?" he said. "But…are these quarters not usually reserved for admirals and visiting dignitaries—"

"Well, you're here representing another dimension, aren't you?" Riker teased, but his attempt at levity seemed to brush straight over the man's head.

"As I stated before, sir, my presence here is not intentional. I am, therefore, hardly an official representative of—"

"Data, I didn't mean it like that," he said.

The man paused, his blue eyes flickering slightly. "Ah – I understand. I'm sorry, sir, I should have recognized you were teasing me. My own Commander Riker has a very similar sense of humor."

"Does he?" Riker said, and strode into the room.

Data followed for a few steps, seeming a little overwhelmed by the spacious quarters, and the sweeping starscape that dominated the room.

"Are you all right?" Riker asked.

Data nodded. "I will be fine, sir. Thank you."

"If there's anything you need…"

"I know the drill, Commander," Data said, and gave him a small smile. "I am a Starfleet Officer."

"Of course." Riker started to leave, then turned back.

"Data…"

"Yes sir?"

"Data, I just can't…" Riker fought a bit of an internal struggle, then sighed. "You said in Ten Forward that you were human."

"All my life," the man said, a little wryly.

"But you didn't seem at all surprised to learn our Data was…"

"A machine?"

"An android. Yes."

The man pursed his lips, then walked to the coffee table and set about opening his travel case. His fingers moved with a swift, efficient dexterity that, again, sparked Riker's suspicions. He pulled out a slim data padd and brought it over for Riker to see.

"Here," he said, flicking quickly through a long list of holograph files to find the right one. "A Soong family photo."

Riker took the slim padd and stared at the image on the screen. Four faces stared back at him, the oldest of which he immediately recognized as Dr. Noonien Soong. The middle-aged cyberneticist stood a small distance from a woman he knew to be a younger version of Dr. Juliana O'Donnell, Soong's ex-wife, whom Riker had met once when she'd come aboard the _Enterprise _with her current husband, the Atrean scientist Pran Tainer. She was clasping the shoulder of a small boy while Dr. Soong proudly had his arm around the shoulders of a white-gold android wearing a bland, rather child-like expression.

"My father," Data pointed to Soong. "And his 'son.'" His finger moved to the android. "That one is Prototype A-3. I called him Archie."

"Then, that boy there…?" Riker said, his eyes drawn to the boy's surprisingly solemn expression.

"That's me," Data said. "And my mother. I often got the impression my father was only truly aware of us when we assisted him with his work. This was taken on Terlina III. We were completely isolated there all the time I was growing up. The house computer and my father's prototypes were my only friends."

The man's expression turned slightly bitter.

"Not exactly the healthiest environment for a child diagnosed from birth with a social disability, but as my father shared that social disability he did not see the problem."

"Social disability?" Riker prompted, too curious to let such an intriguing comment pass.

Data shook his head and chuffed a slight laugh.

"I do not know why I am telling you this. I do not talk about this. Not with anyone. But these past few days have been so…so very…" He smiled grimly. "I suppose I could say reality-shaking. That I believe I would like someone to confide in. If you do not mind, Commander?"

"Oh, no," Riker said, and moved over to one of the plush, gray chairs that flanked the coffee table. "Not at all. May I…?"

"Please," Data said, and took a seat himself. "Would you like something to eat? Or, perhaps a beverage," he asked politely.

Riker was once again struck by the man's eerie Data-ish-ness, as if he was constantly struggling to work out the right way to act like a normal person, instead of just being one.

"No. No thanks, I'm fine."

The man nodded and leaned back in his chair. It was a moment before he spoke.

"I understand that you have recently lost your close friend," he said quietly. "Well I, too, have suffered a very recent loss. When I arrived here, however it happened, I was beaming back to my ship from my father's funeral. Seeing him again…having to say goodbye…" He sighed. "It brought back some very…uncomfortable memories."

"I can imagine," Riker said. "I had a rocky relationship with my own father. He's a very strong-willed, very career-driven man. For much of my life, I felt like I was…in his way."

"That may have been preferable to feeling invisible," Data said. "My father used me, and my mother, as he used everything: as tools to further his research into artificial consciousness. Not artificial intelligence – he did not want to make better computer systems. My father wanted to create mechanical lifeforms. Self-aware machines, as creative and passionate as any organic being."

Riker leaned forward, completely attentive. Data glanced down at the holograph in his hands.

"When I was very young, I believed his was the greatest calling in the universe. His goal to create mechanical life became my life too. But, as I grew older, I began to have serious doubts about our work. Aside from Archie, who survived for six years, the prototypes we created together rarely lived for more than a few weeks. Losing them was like losing a little brother. My father kept each of them in glass display cases in his lab and I would talk to them, hoping my presence would somehow encourage them to open their eyes, to play at puzzles with me again. But, of course, they never did. They taught me that life is fragile and fleeting. But it was my father himself who taught me the real danger his androids faced. Human prejudice.

"My father had dragged us off to that awful jungle world to get away from his critics on the science colony where I was born."

"Would that be Omicron Theta?" Riker asked.

Data nodded. "That is correct. One year, when I was thirteen, my family and I went back there for a cybernetics symposium. My father wished to introduce his critics to Archie. But, the people there seemed to believe the android he really wished to reveal…was me."

Riker wrinkled his brow. "I don't understand."

"You might if you had known me then," Data said flatly. "In a very real way, I was the living database my father had trained me to be. My head was full of facts and figures ready to recite on command, but it was all book knowledge. I could debate points of philosophy with experts, work out complex equations in minutes, yet when it came to reading social cues or interpreting body language, I was hopelessly illiterate."

"You seem pretty sociable now," Riker said.

"Only after nearly two decades of persistent hard work and observation," Data pointed out. "And, even now, I am aware I come off as a little...odd."

"I wouldn't say 'odd,'" Riker started, but Data shook his head with a smile.

"It's all right, Commander. I understand what you are trying to say, and I appreciate the compliment. But, looking back now, recalling my child self, I must admit I can see the reasoning behind their assumptions. My mother had tried her best to teach me social conventions. But, there was no society on Terlina III. No children for me to interact with, no adult role models to learn from or emulate. There was only her and me, my father, and his androids. There was no way I could have known…just how different I really was."

"And, this is the social disability you mentioned?" Riker asked gently.

Data smiled. "A symptom, yes. There are many symptoms I have had to struggle with my entire life. Have you ever heard of the autistic spectrum, or Asperger's syndrome?"

Riker shrugged. "Can't say that I have."

"I'm not surprised," Data said. "Such issues are all but unheard of in this day and age, when early genetic screening can correct almost any…defect. But, my father was vehemently against genetic manipulation of any kind, no matter how benign. You see, his ancestor…and mine…was Dr. Arik Soong."

Riker straightened in his chair. "Not the geneticist Arik Soong! The mad scientist who stole those engineered Augment embryos left over from the Eugenics Wars? The last remnants of Khan Noonien Singh's so-called 'master race'?"

Data nodded somberly. "The same. But he was not a 'mad scientist.' He was a talented geneticist who acted rashly in support of a very wrong belief. He sought to prove that a nurturing environment could alter the aggressive, sociopathic nature of the Augments, but he realized his mistake too late. The Augments turned against him and caused a great deal of destruction before they were finally destroyed, and my ancestor returned to prison. But, his memory cast quite a pall over our family. My father's name, in fact, Noonien, was intended by his parents as a warning reminder against intelligence unchecked...something of a Soong family tradition, I'm afraid. I am fortunate my mother chose to break that convention and name me for a song she loved from her childhood in Ireland."

"Let me guess," Riker said with a smile. "'Danny Boy.'"

Data chuckled a little bashfully. "It is better than carrying a name like Arik Soong. But, like that awful legacy, this disorder I mentioned can be inherited. My father had it – worse than I do, I suspect – and it is believed Arik Soong had it as well. It is often referred to as 'the genius syndrome,' as the social difficulties associated with it often accompany very high intelligence. My own IQ is rated higher than my father's, and I can remember nearly every image or fact I am exposed to…information that often floods back to me unbidden when I am trying to concentrate or sleep, but refuses to appear when I actually need it. It is immensely frustrating."

"I suspect it is," Riker said. "Then, this syndrome of yours is the reason those scientists thought you might be…"

"An android?" Data finished for him. "Yes. My father may have treated me like a living database at home, but there on Omicron Theta... That was the first time I truly understood what it felt like…to be dehumanized. My father introduced me to those people as his son, but it wasn't long before they realized I did not react to them as normal children would. This raised their suspicions, and before I knew it, I was being led away to a lab for a series of mental and physical tests."

His expression clenched as the images washed over him, as clear as the day they'd happened. It was a humiliating memory that, at the time, had been merely confusing, but in retrospect he'd recognized as a hurtful and infuriating blow to his young psyche.

"Those people treated me like a thing, spoke about me as if I was not in the room, poked and prodded and questioned me with no regard to my feelings," he said. "I – sheltered, ignorant, bewildered little me – did not know enough about acceptable social behavior to protest their treatment of me, or even to get angry. But, my father did. And, my father let them take me. He allowed them to test me, like a machine. The understanding came to me gradually, over a course of several days. I kept remembering the look in his eyes…and I realized he'd actually contemplated letting those people believe I was one of his creations, rather than his own, biological son. He'd been willing to let me be treated like this, to let Archie be treated like this, to let any android we created be treated like...like property, as long as his precious colleagues acknowledged his success. Because that's how those so-called scientists viewed our androids. Not as people, not as living beings to be respected, but as owned creations they could patent, mass produce, and ship off to serve the Federation as innocent, unwitting slaves. When I realized that, when I saw the hypocrisy… That is when the rift began between my father and myself.

"My mother refused to see it. She kept saying I was overreacting to a silly misunderstanding and we all should just laugh it off as if it never happened. But I could not laugh it off. I could not see the humor in mistaking a boy for an android, or in treating an android like some fancy tech-forward trinket. It was not until after Archie…died…" he swallowed back the memory, "the next year, that she began to understand my epiphany.

"My father did not mourn for Archie, as we did. He saw only the flaws in his design, the inefficiencies in his programming, and ideas for improvements. Archie was his – his creation, his invention, his thing to tinker with and reprogram as he willed. To me, Archie had been Archie. My friend. My brother. To my mother, he had been another son. So, when my father immediately began construction on a new android, I refused to help him. I knew what he was doing was wrong. So, I left. I applied, with my mother's help, to Harvard University on Earth and earned two doctorates before I was twenty-two. Unwilling to be stuck on a planet, a sedentary researcher like my father, I spent a year in officer's training at Starfleet Academy and headed back to the stars.

"Unfortunately, my social disorder followed me. My early shipmates regarded me as 'weird' and shunned me at social gatherings. I began to fear my Asperger's would impede my ambitions for promotion, and it did remain an agonizing hindrance, until Captain Picard decided to take a chance and selected me to be his second officer aboard the _Enterprise_. There, for the first time in my life, I found acceptance. I discovered I did not have to pretend to be someone I was not in order to succeed in my position. I learned about friendship, and…" he blushed a little, his thumb brushing over a ring Riker just noticed on his finger. "I fell in love."

Riker's eyes widened, and he broke into a beaming smile. "Data!" he said. "Don't tell me you're married! Who's the lucky woman?"

Data flipped through a few more holographs and handed Riker the padd.

"My family," he said proudly. "That's me and Tasha, and our little daughter, Lal."

Riker stared, feeling his face pale at the sight of the happy, grinning family. The human Data, a beaming Tasha Yar who was very much alive and wearing a blue uniform, and the dark-haired little girl, maybe about a year or two years old…

"Oh, my God…"

Data picked up on his discomfort. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Riker said, unable to take his eyes from the photo. "No, they're beautiful, Data. Absolutely beautiful. I just… That really is Lal…"

Data tilted his head sharply. "Then, Lal does have a counterpart in this universe?"

Riker winced, aware he'd probably said too much. "You could say that."

"From your reaction, I presume you are reluctant to reveal her nature to me. Is she an android as well? May I see her?"

Riker sighed. "Oh, Data…" he said.

"Please." Data's blue eyes were pleading. "It has been so long since I last saw my family. Tasha and Lal were away visiting Tasha's sister, Ishara, while I was with my parents. I meant to join them after a week, but my father's declining health compelled me to remain on Atrea until the end. If Lal is here, on this ship, even if she is an android, I would very much like to meet her."

Riker squirmed in his chair. "Yeah, well… Data, there's no easy way to say this. She's gone. She only lived a short time. She's with our Data now…in the cybernetics lab."

Data squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head. "I see," he said in a small voice. "And…Tasha?"

"Lieutenant Yar was killed in action…seven years ago."

Data's nod was slow and deliberate. "Then…nothing remains of my family here, in this universe. I am…alone."

Riker's expression crumpled. "Oh…now, Data, don't say that. You've got us. Maybe we're not the same as your friends back on your _Enterprise_, but we're here for you, and we'll do everything we can to help you get back to your family. I promise you that."

Data nodded, a few strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. "I appreciate that, Commander. Thank you."

"One more thing," Riker said. "You're a guest on this ship, which means you're not under my command. You can call me Will."

Data looked up, startled. "I'm not sure that I could, sir."

"Hey, if you're Data, I'm Will, and I won't hear any argument, got it?"

"Yes, si- Will," Data choked, clearly discomfited by the informality.

"Try it out a few more times," Riker said with a smile. "You'll get used to it." He stood and headed for the door, then turned back around. "Say, Data," he said. "Do you play poker?"

Data brightened. "I do, s—Will," he said.

"Good to hear," Riker said, his smile taking on a slightly wicked cast. "The holodecks are open to you, as is the arboretum and all the other recreational areas on this ship. The captain will probably want to talk with you, so keep an eye out for a briefing summons. In the meantime, I should be getting back to the reception."

"I understand," Data said. "I'm sorry to have kept you away so long."

"It was no problem," Riker said. "Try to relax, make yourself comfortable. We'll get to the bottom of this before you know it."

"Yes, sir," Data said as he turned to go. "And, Will…?"

"Yeah, Data?"

"Thank you for listening."

Riker grinned. "Any time, my friend," he said, and strode out the door.

Data stared after him for a moment, then strolled slowly around the enormous room, trying to think how he could possibly feel comfortable in such a place. The furniture was not where it should be. Back on his _Enterprise_, he and Tasha had arranged their coffee table and chairs to include the starscape, not block it. This had to be remedied. In addition, the fruit in the fruit bowl should be arranged by color and planet of origin. It was very disconcerting seeing it there, casually lumped together in an undiscerning pile. The towels in the bathroom were not folded correctly – that is, they were not folded the way Tasha folded them. The walls of the bedroom should be lit with a blue glow…Tasha's favorite color. And Lal's doll…the plushy orange cat he'd brought back for her from Atrea… That should sit on the lower shelf. Once these changes were implemented, perhaps the eerie sense of emptiness would stop pressing so heavily on his shoulders.

Data rubbed his hands together, ready to get to work, when the door signal chirped.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"It's me. Uh, Geordi LaForge."

Data straightened, not sure whether to feel glad or nervous. In his reality, Geordi was his best friend. Neither of their parents had opted for genetic screening and, growing up, he and the blind engineer had both suffered social ridicule and ostracization for their respective 'handicaps.' He'd gathered from the man's reaction at the reception that Geordi and his android counterpart had shared a similarly close bond in this universe. Could that be why he was coming to see him now?

"Please enter, Geordi."

Geordi seemed to have opted for feeling nervous. He shuffled through the sliding doors, awkwardly rubbing his palms on his uniform's trousers.

"Hi, Data," he said.

"Geordi," Data acknowledged. "Would you care to sit down?"

"Uh…that's OK. I don't really…"

"Then, would you mind helping me move this coffee table across the room?"

Geordi frowned. "OK. But, why?"

"Because that is where the coffee table should be."

Geordi shrugged and shuffled over to the opposite end of the table.

"We'll lift on three," Data said. "Ready? One…two…three…"

Geordi and Data hefted the heavy, polished table a few inches off the carpet and staggered diagonally across the room. Geordi frowned to see the genuine effort on Data's face as he strained to complete a task his android counterpart could have done with one hand.

"Ah, thank you, Geordi," Data said once he'd arranged the table 'just so.' "I did not wish to damage the carpet by dragging the table here."

"Data," Geordi said, watching the man go back for the chairs, one by one, "why are you doing this?"

"Because this room is too large and too empty and I want it to feel more like home," Data replied, returning with the bowl of fruit. As Geordi watched, he emptied the bowl onto the table, quickly sorted the fruit into color-coded piles, then neatly refilled the bowl.

"Hmm," Geordi said, raising an eyebrow over his VISOR as the man headed to the bathroom and started efficiently refolding towels. "Look, I don't mean to interrupt if you're busy…"

"I am not busy," Data said, now adjusting the light settings in the bedroom. "Was there something you wanted?"

"I, uh…" Geordi started. "I wanted to talk to you about what you said. At the reception. You said you weren't surprised about what happened to Data."

"I am not," Data said, striding over to his open suitcase and pulling out a toy cat. Geordi smirked.

"You always pack that on trips?" he asked.

"No," Data said, carefully arranging the cat on the lower shelf so it looked like it was sitting with its tail curled over its legs. "I bought this doll for Lal." He straightened and looked at Geordi. "My daughter. In my universe, she is just over a year old."

Geordi seemed uncomfortable. "And is she…"

"She is human too, yes," Data said. "As is my wife, Tasha. Although Commander Riker has told me that, in this reality, they are both…gone."

Geordi nodded. "I didn't realize," he said softly. "This has got to be pretty awful for you, huh. Showing up here like this, on today of all days. Finding out…"

"Yes," Data said rather stiffly, and his breath began to quicken. "It has been…quite difficult. I must admit I am suddenly feeling the strain far more acutely than before. Perhaps the initial shock of my situation has begun to wear off."

"Here, look, don't panic Data," Geordi said, striding over to help the trembling man to a chair. "It's going to be all right."

"Yes. That is what Commander Riker said," Data told him, starting to rock slightly in his chair. "But he is not the one trapped in a universe where his counterpart is an android and his entire family is…"

He rubbed his eyes harshly with his sleeve.

Geordi patted his shoulder. "Hey, it's all right to cry if you need to. You shouldn't hold all that in."

"I'm sorry," Data said, swallowing hard. "I did not mean to collapse like this. I just…I miss my baby, Geordi. I miss her so much."

Geordi straightened, a sudden idea occurring to him. "You just wait here, Data," he said. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going, Geordi?"

"I'm just going to fetch something. I'll be back in three minutes. Five, tops."

It took longer than five minutes. Data had finished unpacking and was standing by the replicator, knowing he should probably eat something but not really wanting to, when Geordi returned, a squirming ball of orange fur clutched in his arms.

"Got 'er!" he announced proudly, holding the irked cat out to Data. "Data, meet Spot. Spot, Data."

The cat peered up at him through wide, yellow eyes. Data found himself smiling.

"Hello, Spot," he said, reaching for the cat. "What a strange name for a cat."

"Data's attempt at humor, I think," Geordi said. "He never could get the hang of it. But, she's his cat. I thought…you know…it might help if…"

Data nodded, holding the cat close as he rubbed her ears. She purred in happy contentment. "Thank you, Geordi," he said. "Thank you very much. And I am terribly sorry about your friend. I should have explained. In my reality, my father's androids never survived very long. I took it very hard when they died. I have been treated like a data machine myself, and learning of my counterpart here… I am afraid my reaction may have seemed colder than, in fact, it was."

"Hey, I get it," Geordi said. "I'm not sure how I'd react in the same situation. All things considered, I think you're holding up like a champ."

Data smiled. "I have not worked with androids for many years," he said. "Since I was a teenager, in fact. But if it is all right with you, I would be willing to take a look at your Data while I am here. Perhaps my familiarity with my father's work might shed some light on the cause of his system failure."

Geordi's expression couldn't contain his enthusiasm, and he bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, that's what I was hoping you'd say. Maybe, between the two of us, we could—"

"Captain to Commander Data," Picard's voice rang over the comm system.

Data glanced at Geordi, then lowered Spot to the floor and strode to the comm panel. "Data here, Captain."

"If you feel you've settled in, Commander, would you mind meeting with me in my ready room? I would like to discuss your situation in greater detail and, perhaps, organize a staff conference later in the day."

"Understood, sir. I am on my way. Data out." He turned to Geordi. "I'm afraid I do not know how long this briefing will take."

"It's OK," Geordi said. "How about this: I'll give you Data's access code, so you can drop by Data's lab – I mean, the cybernetics lab – whenever you're free. This code only works for that door, though. Data kind of had a thing for passwords. Hand me your padd?"

Data handed him the padd he'd shown to Riker only minutes before. The image of his family was still on the screen.

"Oh, look at this…" Geordi said when he saw the happy grins. "Data, if you only knew. Your life is an android's dream come true."

"I do know, Geordi," Data said somberly. "And I have no wish to lose it."

_To Be Continued…_

_References include the three-episode arc ENT: "Borderland," "Cold Station 12," and "The Augments;" TNG: "Inheritance," "The Icarus Factor," and "The Offspring;" TOS: "Space Seed;" and the movie "Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan."  
_

_P.S. Before anybody asks if I'm writing certain aspects of Danny's character from personal experience, the answer is yes. 'Nuff said._


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

_Captain's Log, Stardate 47636.02. The _Enterprise_ is continuing its analysis of _OGLE-2005-BLG-390L: _a red dwarf star orbited by a rocky planet some five times the mass of Earth. The planet, first detected by human scientists in the Earth calendar year 2005, has been home to a Federation research team for the past ten Federation standard years; approximately the duration of one planetary orbit. Their project now reaching completion, the _Enterprise_ has been dispatched to review their work, dismantle the research station, and transport the scientists back to the Daystrom Institute. _

_On a more personal note, the sudden, tragic loss of Mr. Data continues to have a profound effect on my crew, made all the keener by the unexpected – and, as yet, unexplained – appearance of a man claiming to be Dr. Daniel Soong: a human counterpart of our Lt. Commander Data from another reality. This man, who also calls himself 'Data,' has agreed to undergo tests that will hopefully determine the validity of his claims and help us find a way to return him to his own quantum universe..._

* * *

Data sighed and drew the silvery blanket up to his chin. Describing the events of the past eighteen hours as "a long day" would be a gross understatement. He had stepped onto the Atrean transporter platform eagerly anticipating the distraction of a new mission; meeting the returning shuttle bearing Geordi, Riker, Worf, Tasha, Lal, and Guinan; enjoying the long-missed comfort of a quiet evening at home in the company of his beloved wife and daughter.

Instead…

Instead, he had endured multiple series of tests in Sickbay, questions from the Captain and Commander Riker, an interview with Counselor Troi and, perhaps worst of all, the icky, creepy, sickly, disconcerting knowledge that he did not belong. Not to this crew, not to this ship, not to this universe. No, this universe was home to an android. Data's own mechanical counterpart – a truly sentient, self-aware mechanical lifeform who had earned the respect, and the friendship, of the entire crew. And, although he found the thought extremely unsettling, Data couldn't shake his awareness that, if he'd still been functional, this machine Data would have been his father's ultimate achievement: an intelligent, intuitive android son; the culmination of Noonien Soong's most coveted dream.

A dream his father could never, now, attain.

Data had spent his entire childhood watching Soong's struggle to prove that the creation of a being like this Data android was possible, but he'd never achieved any long-term success. Instead of the accolade and recognition he'd deserved, the frustrated and, admittedly, abrasive genius had received only ridicule and ostricization to the point where he'd taken his family and fled society to conduct his work in isolation.

Here, however, in this universe…without the burden of a family, a child, to hold him back…

_Was it because of me? _Data wondered. _Did the responsibilities of raising me keep him from realizing his dream? Did my influence, my rejection, deny my father his place in history?_

Data shifted to his side, then rolled to his other side, then lay flat, staring at the faint, dappled shadows on the ceiling. His mind filled with images as accurate and vivid as holographic recreations. The images kept flashing, flashing, flashing, without his volition, churning like old-style film through a projector, replaying his vigil at his father's bedside, the tears in his mother's eyes, his childhood home on Terlina III, the elated grin his father had worn those times he rushed in from his lab late for dinner, his gray hair wild, babbling about his latest breakthrough…

Tears leaked down Data's face and he reached out an arm in the dark, seeking a presence, a warmth, he knew would not be there. Instead, his fingers met a void. He felt it as a tingle against his skin...an almost physical absence.

Quickly, he sat up and got out of the bed.

Data wasn't an officer on this ship. There was no need to get back into his uniform. Striding to the replicator he requested a set of comfortable civilian clothes, got dressed, brushed his hair, and stalked out to roam the nighttime corridors of this alien _Enterprise_.

* * *

The lights in the Observation Lounge were dimmed. Deanna Troi knew, intellectually, that dimming the lights was an effective means of conserving power during ship's night, but sitting in the dark like this always made her feel bleary. That wasn't the worst part though. The worst part was sensing its similarly soporific effect on the rest of the gathered staff - a warm, sleepy feeling that evoked the rather unprofessional desire to yawn and lay her head down on the table.

"Tell me your impressions, Number One," the captain was saying, leaning forward over the polished conference table. "You've spoken at some length with this man. Do you believe his assertions?"

"I was skeptical at first," Riker admitted. "But after being around him for a while… I have to say it's uncanny, sir. He strikes me as open, trusting, honest…overanalytical, nervous… A match for our Data in almost every way."

"I have to agree, sir," Geordi added. "Aside from a few emotional quirks, for a while, talking with him… I almost felt like… Like I had my friend back." The engineer looked down at his folded hands.

Troi felt sympathetic, but also concerned. "What do you mean, 'emotional quirks'?" she asked.

"Well, he asked me to help him rearrange the furniture in his quarters," Geordi said. "Said he wanted it to feel more like home."

"Well, that's not too unusual. Anything else?" Troi prompted.

Geordi furrowed his brow. "Most of the time we were talking, he seemed…I don't know. Kind of formal. Detached, even. Very Data-like. Then, we brought up his family and he suddenly got very upset, almost like a mild panic-attack. I introduced him to Spot and he seemed OK after that, but…I don't know. If I couldn't _see _he was fully organic I'd swear the man was an android. He just doesn't seem to _connect_ like a normal human. If anything, he seems a little…stilted. And he wouldn't look me directly in the face for more than a few seconds."

Riker nodded. "Yes, I picked up on that too," he said. "I assumed it was a symptom of the 'social disability' he told me about."

Deanna raised an eyebrow. "Social disability?"

Riker shrugged. "He described it as Asperger's syndrome. Some form of autism, I think he said."

"Autism?" Dr. Crusher straightened in her chair.

"You know of it, Doctor?" Picard said.

"Of course I know of it," she said. "But, it's an incredibly rare condition…at least, in the Federation. If it's true that Soong has a version of autism, that would certainly shed light on the somewhat unusual results I got from his brain scans. There was nothing alarming – all tests show him to be a healthy, highly intelligent, well adapted officer – but I was a little concerned. I was meaning to look into it in the morning."

"I would like to look into this too, Beverly, if I may," Troi said.

"I'd be happy for any insights you could provide," the doctor said.

Troi nodded, but her lips were stretched in a frown. "Captain, I think you should know I've been sensing extremely high levels of anxiety from this man. If he is autistic, even if it is a very mild case, I'm concerned that the sudden loss of the familiar structure and support he knew on his _Enterprise_ might trigger a severe panic response. I'm also concerned that he didn't volunteer this information about himself during our interview this afternoon."

"He told me," Riker said. "He probably knows you're empathic – maybe he assumed you already knew."

"Perhaps," Picard said, but Troi sensed his concern. "Doctor, I want to know the results of those tests the moment you have them. Geordi, if it's not too much trouble, I want you to keep an eye on our guest. I'd also like to have him assist the investigation into how he arrived here, and how we might get him home."

"Yes sir. But, Captain," Geordi said, "this man is a cybernetics genius. He worked by Dr. Soong's side for years. If anyone has a chance of finding out what happened to our Data—"

Picard nodded, a thrill of hope briefly brightening his expression as he realized the implications. "Of course, Mr. LaForge. If he's willing, then I am all for allowing him to find out if there's a way to restore our Mr. Data. Work out a schedule and submit it to Mr. Worf at Ops in the morning. In the meantime, I want you all alert and rested when you return to work, so I'll bid you all good night. Dismissed."

* * *

Geordi felt a little awkward checking up on Data's location, but the Captain had told him to keep an eye on the man. Besides, Geordi had been the one who'd input his biodata into the computer and presented him with a communicator, since the one from his reality couldn't seem to interface properly with the ship's systems. So, while the rest of the staff shuffled out of the Observation Lounge and into the turbolift on the upper bridge, Geordi strode down the ramp to the lower lift and spoke as soon as the doors closed.

"Computer, location of Daniel Soong?"

"Dr. Daniel Soong is in the cybernetics lab."

"Then that's where I want to go," Geordi said. The computer chirped an acknowledgement and the lift at once began to move.

Geordi wasn't sure what he'd expected to find when he got there. Soong at the computer panel, probably, pouring over Data's schematics.

What he found made him stop with a jolt.

Lal's body stood upright in the cylindrical diagnostic elevator that dominated the center of the room. Lal's headless body.

"What the—!"

"Geordi?" Data's voice called from the back of the lab.

"Data?" Geordi rushed toward the sound, hardly daring to hope—

Danny Soong looked up from an incredibly cluttered lab table, a complicated magnifying headset pushed up his forehead and a huge, beaming grin on his face. He was dressed in blue denim trousers and a black shirt with short sleeves, and a leather jacket hung over the back of his chair. Geordi blinked behind his VISOR (not that the action interrupted its sensory feed to his brain) struggling to recall if he'd ever seen his own Data dressed in anything but his uniform.

"Is she not beautiful, Geordi?" the man said, indicating Lal's head, which stood in the center of the table. "My sweet little Lalena, all grown up!"

"Lalena…?"

Geordi shuffled closer and peered at the mess, a lurch of horror growing in his gut as he realized just what it was.

"Data…" he said. "You removed her brain. You…you took it apart."

"Of course I did. How else could I trace the physical development of all these anomalies?"

Geordi blinked again.

"Are you… Are you saying you can fix her? That you can undo the cascade failure that led to her shutdown?"

"No," Data said, pulling the magnifier back over his eyes and fixing his attention on the array of tiny circuits and chips that surrounded him. "Cascade failure cannot be reversed. But, if I can determine the catalyst that triggered the development of these critically unstable neural circuit pathways, I can remove them and correct the erroneous code. I can then reconstruct the brain, providing a more stable matrix."

"Then you can repair her?"

"I won't know that until I finish mapping these faulty pathways," Data told him distractedly. "Something set this off… Something that destabilized the system, allowing the rapid formation of numerous pathways, all at once. This unchecked, uneven growth created a host of anomalies, which led to her shutdown. If the underlying cause of this instability cannot be found and corrected, the system error would only reoccur if she were to be reactivated."

Geordi nodded. He and his own Data had come to that same conclusion years before. Geordi wasn't sure how Data would have reacted to seeing his daughter's brain spread out across a lab table. He felt his own reaction very strongly, but he knew there really was no point in blowing up at Soong. The damage had already been done. And if there was any actual hope that Soong could restore Data's daughter…

"You want some help?"

Data raised his head, his wide blue eyes magnified comically by his headset.

"Thank you, Geordi."

Geordi took a seat and Data slid him a fresh data padd.

"I talked to the Captain," Geordi said. "He wants you to join our investigation."

"Excellent. I'll be pleased to assist in any way I can," Data said, his fingers racing over his own keypad as he recorded his observations. "And the androids? Will I be allowed to continue here?"

"Yes," Geordi said, and glanced at him. "Data… Have you had a chance to take a look at…"

"At the mechanical me?" Data seemed to grimace. "No. I could not quite bring myself to…"

"To open the crypt?"

"Gah! Did you have to say it that way?" Data exclaimed, and shuddered hard. "For goodness sakes, Geordi, it was disturbing enough seeing my daughter…like that. If she'd looked more like…like herself…I don't think I could have… But, expecting me to look into my own face…after midnight…!"

"OK, OK, I get it," Geordi said. "Maybe we could try tomorrow. Together?"

Data glanced at him and nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, starting to calm down. "OK. Yes. That would be…more acceptable."

Geordi offered him a smile, then slid a curved piece of Lal's anterior cinculate cortex closer for analysis. After a few minutes of industrious silence, he said, "So, did the tests today show anything? Anything we don't already know, that is?"

"Dr. Crusher said it would be some time before the results came back," Data replied, and shook his head. "It is so strange to be here, on the _Enterprise_, among people who look and act so much like my closest friends, and feel that…I do not belong. Gazes linger just a little too long, smiles always seem a trifle forced. It would be extremely uncomfortable…were it not for you, Geordi. I am grateful that you have decided to trust me enough to allow me access to your cybernetics lab. I was going…a little stir crazy in my quarters."

"Yeah, well, I for one believe your story. And I think you've got the rest of the senior officers convinced too. Human or not, there's a lot of Data in you, Danny. Do you mind if I call you Danny? I know you're not comfortable with 'Dr. Soong.'"

The man made a face. "Only my mother calls me Danny. Everyone else calls me Data. Including my wife."

"OK," Geordi said. "I get that. But if we do manage to get our Data…I mean, this universe's version of Data…back online… Having two Datas around… It might get a little confusing."

Data regarded him through the lenses of his headset. "Surely you're not saying you would confuse me with an android, no matter how human he may be in appearance. An android, when functioning, would give off an electromagnetic aura that would certainly be perceptible by your VISOR. In addition—"

Geordi held up his hands. "Yes, I know all that. I'm just saying it might be easier if, while you're here, you went by your more…well…human name. Not just for us but…for Data. You don't know him but, seeing you, the way you are…" Geordi faltered and dropped his hands back to the table.

Data furrowed his brow, struggling to decipher the engineer's meaning.

"I would assume he would react rationally, just as I would upon meeting him...were it not after midnight in a darkened room. No doubt there would be some level of discomfort involved in meeting an individual so similar to oneself, but while we may be quantum duplicates, in a sense, it is not as if we are the same person. No matter how many physical or experiential traits we share, our differences extend to a subatomic level. But, this is all hypothetical, Geordi. We do not yet know if the system failure that caused your Data's shutdown can be repaired."

"Fine then, if you won't do it for him, will you do it for me? Will you let me call you Danny?"

The man regarded him, clearly confused. "Does it really mean that much to you?"

"Yes. It does."

"Why?"

"Why does it mean so much to you?"

The man shrugged his eyebrows. "Fair point. Very well, Geordi. If it relieves your discomfort, you may call me Danny."

"Great," Geordi said. "So, your daughter's name is Lalena?"

"Yes. My wife's choice. We had been debating possible names for some time. Tasha liked the idea of naming our child for a song, as my mother had named me for the Irish ballad 'Danny Boy,' but complained that no title she had come across so far 'spoke' to her - until she heard the Donovan song 'Lalena' playing at my parents' house. I tried to explain that Donovan's 'Lalena' refers to the archetype of the socially marginalized woman, such as the streetwalker, but Tasha said she liked the melody and argued that 'Danny Boy' was about death and often sung at funerals. My father then pointed out that the shortened version, Lal, meant 'beloved' in Hindi. I acknowledged that, although the term is usually applied to boys, it can be a unisex appellation. This pleased us both and, so, we agreed that would be our child's name: Lalena. Lal Juliana Soong."

Geordi smiled. "I guess you guys are pretty happy together, huh."

"Yes," Danny said, and his expression grew distant. Suddenly, he took off his headset, stood, and grabbed his jacket from the chair. "My brain's gone muzzy," he said. "I cannot work on this any longer. Would you care to meet again in the morning, Geordi?"

"Sure," Geordi said, getting to his feet. "Want to meet in Ten Forward for breakfast? Say, 0700 hours?"

Danny nodded and strode for the door. Geordi stared after him for a moment, then looked down at Lal's scattered brain and sighed.

_To Be Continued…_

* * *

_References include TNG "Heart of Glory," "The Offspring " and "The Quality of Life."_

Note: Just for the fun of it - Based on calculations derived from details provided by Data in the episode "Data's Day" and other given stardates, Stardate 47636.02 translates to our 21st century standard Gregorian-based Earth calendar as Thursday, May 21, 2370 at 12:47pm GMT Daylight Time, 7:47am Eastern Time. That's eight days after the episode "Masks," which took place on Stardate 47615.2: Wednesday, May 13, 2370 at 5:57am GMT Daylight Time, 12:57am EST. The following episode, "Eye of the Beholder," took place on May 15, and "Genesis" took place on May 28. This story takes place right in-between the two, so continuity-wise Danny's basically got seven days to save Data and help solve whatever other mysteries might crop up in relation to his malfunction if, in this universe, Data is to be available to save the crew from Barclay's Protomorphosis Syndrome. Since, being fanfiction, this whole story is AU, though, anything could happen… :)

Thanks for reading, and for taking the time to leave me some comments! They're always greatly appreciated, especially after long, stressful weeks of research and article writing. (I just finished a hugely important article and now I've got to jump right back into my thesis writing). Thank you for making my bookish life brighter! :D


	5. Chapter Five

_Here's some more story. I'm so thrilled you're enjoying it. Thanks so much for your reviews! :) This next little bit is still more about character than plot development - the whole story is really, I guess - but I think it's important and things will start coming together soon. I hope you like it! _

**Chapter Five**

It was very late. Or very early. Either way, Guinan liked this time of night. The energy and hustle of the day had long since faded to a slow, sleepy calm, and the morning shift had yet to rise.

Guinan glided into Ten Forward and set about grinding and preparing a pot of fresh coffee. Replicators were all well and good, but sometimes, some mornings, a cup of the real thing could make all the difference.

At a table by the viewports, a lone figure stirred: a man dressed in civilian clothes, a leather jacket slung over the back of his chair. He'd been asleep when she'd walked in, but now she could see him watching her reflection in the transparent aluminum window. Leaving the coffee to percolate, she grabbed a few of the fresh oranges she'd gathered from the ship's arboretum, tossed them in a press, and poured the juice into two glasses.

As she approached his table, the man said, "A monk, a clone, and a Ferengi walked into a bar."

"What?"

"A monk, a clone, and a Ferengi walked into a bar," he repeated, and turned to face her.

She waited to see if he'd go on. When he didn't, she prompted, "And…?"

"They said 'ow'."

She stared at him for a moment, then broke out in a snicker that grew into a giggle. He smiled.

"Data, that's terrible," she said.

"I know," he agreed. "But it made you laugh."

She slid him a glass of juice. He sighed, and took a long, appreciative sip.

"Thank you," he said. "I take it my duplicate here doesn't have much of a sense of humor."

"I take it you do?" Guinan said, sitting down across from him.

Data's smile turned wicked. "You'd have to ask my shipmates," he said, and turned his eyes to the stars, leaning his foot against the window's edge and rocking back on his chair.

"To be honest, I was kind of a blank when it came to humor when I was first assigned to the _Enterprise_. I loved W.C. Fields and the Marx Brothers and Danny Kaye – you know, snappy wordplay stuff like that – but joking around…forget it. Humor…real, spontaneous humor… It's one of those subtle social banter things you need a social context to master, and I never had that growing up. Even now, while I have become far more adept at recognizing the vocal intonations, body cues, and contextual situations that indicate irony and sarcasm, I am still far from proficient."

He reached for his juice and contemplated it for a while. Guinan waited patiently and took a sip of her own juice, just listening.

"Still…" he said at last, "there's something about the _Enterprise…_ The ship, the crew… It's…a sense of freedom I've never really known. A freedom to be yourself, to experiment, to discover talents you never knew you had. It took me a while to understand…about a year or so before I began to…'lighten up', as Commander Riker would say. I started experimenting with social banter, testing acceptable boundaries, trying out goofy jokes on my friends, and within a few weeks I discovered, not only am I a fairly good mimic, I can crack up the Captain with just a few well timed words." He snickered into his glass. "It is a power I rather savor."

"Hmm," Guinan said, and raised a non-existent brow. "I'm curious. Was there any prompt for this experiment, or did you just wake up one morning with the sudden urge to investigate humor?"

"There was a prompt," Data admitted, turning back to face her. "Some sleazy cargo ship captain, Okona. He 'put the moves' on Tasha and I…well… I feared I could not…compete."

"Ah," Guinan said, as if that explained everything.

"You know this Okona?"

"Let's just say his visit had a similar impact on our Data. So, let me guess. He teased you about not understanding humor and you got into one of your obsessions, studying and overanalyzing practically everything ever recorded on the subject."

"Yes," Data said. "But how did you know about my obsessions?"

"Obsessive behavior, fixation on details, it's all part and parcel of your…personality quirk. I must say, for an autistic, you are extremely high functioning."

"It is Asperger's syndrome. Quite a mild case. Please, do not tell the crew."

"Why not? It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I know. I told Commander Riker, but that was in confidence. I just…I don't…" He closed his eyes, as if shutting out a rush of unpleasant memories.

"Please," he said.

"All right, my lips are sealed," Guinan assured him. His shoulders relaxed, and he sighed.

"So, you're a mimic, eh?" she said. "What's your best shtick?"

Data regarded her for a long moment, then he lifted his juice glass and, in a near-perfect imitation of Captain Picard's rich tones, he said, "Guinan, I ordered Earl Grey. I swear this tastes more like Orange Pekoe."

Guinan laughed out loud. "You nailed him!"

"That's what she said," he intoned, still in Picard's voice.

"Oh my—" She snorted helplessly and shook her head. "Oh, Data, that's really bad. Don't do that."

Data shrugged, but he was laughing with her. "Hey, you're the one who told me there's no such thing as a bad joke. Only bad timing. Unfortunately, my timing appears to be off. By about three years, if today's stardate is to be believed."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she said in Troi's voice. Data's eyes widened, and he grinned.

"That's really good," he said. "I was not aware you could mimic voices."

"There's a lot about me you don't know."

"I believe that," he said. "For example, I do not know your theory as to how I arrived here. Perhaps you might enlighten me?"

"Is that why you came here?" she asked.

"Yes and no," he said. "I came here because I could not sleep in that room. I miss Tasha. And…" He swallowed hard.

"Guinan, I am really scared. There are so many variables, so many unknowns. There is a significant time difference between this reality and my own. For the people here, it has been three years since we thwarted the Borg invasion. Back home, it has been three weeks. If that rate is constant, and I age one year here for every week that passes back home…"

He shivered and shook his head. "No. I will not think about that. But… How did I get here, Guinan? What happened to me? If you know anything...anything at all..."

Guinan lowered her eyes to the table. "I can't say for certain," she said. "But I sense there is a purpose to this. If I had to make a guess, I'd say you're here…to return a favor."

"A favor?" Data frowned. "Whose favor? What does that mean?"

"Have you had a chance to take a look at your counterpart yet?"

"No," he said, and cleared his throat. "It's not an easy thing, you know. To face something like that. I mean, it's one thing to understand…that he's a machine. That he's…dead. Quite another to see it for real."

Guinan nodded. "I have a feeling," she said, "this whole situation is less a mystery than a test."

"A test? Someone is testing…what? Me? Why?"

"I'm afraid I don't have those answers."

"…the hell…" Data muttered and stood so suddenly his chair nearly toppled over. He spun to face the window and raked his fingers through his hair until it stood in all directions. "Why can no one in this damned universe give me a straight answer?!" he exclaimed. "I thought you were supposed to be my friend, Guinan."

"I am your friend, Data."

"Then help me!" he cried.

Guinan stood and glided over to touch his arm.

"Before I can help you any further," she said, "you'll need to find the strength to help yourself."

Data stared at her, his expression wide and vulnerable. Then, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room…leaving his jacket behind.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

_References include "The Outrageous Okona" and "The Best of Both Worlds."_

_Gotta get back to work now. Until next time! :) _


	6. An Ecstatic OT Interlude

Hi!

The following is a completely true story. I have some incredibly fantastic news that I absolutely need to share and this seemed the most appropriate place to share it so here it is:

My sister just told me that she **_MET DATA_** today at a _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ reunion in Boston. She went for me, as a fantastic surprise, because she knew I would have loved to have been there if I wasn't over here in Scotland studying my butt off. She told Mr. Spiner about me, about the enormous influence the character Data has had on my life, growing up with Asperger's (yep, I said I was writing from personal experience), how I taught myself to read facial expressions by watching him on TV. She told me he started off being all jokey, but by the end he was deeply moved and he wrote her out a very special autograph for me!

There's going to be another convention next year. Next year, I'll be back home in America, my degree completed, and I'm going to go meet Mr. Spiner in person. I'm going to tell him about my work and let him know that, without Data as a positive role model, demonstrating that someone like me can be a leader, someone with trouble understanding social cues and humor and the nuances of interpersonal relationships, I wouldn't have believed I could make it all the way to this fantastic Scottish university. I wouldn't have trusted myself enough to teach, to mentor, to write, to present, to apply for opportunities that force me to put myself out there and get noticed despite my 'social disability'. It's hard work, every day it's such hard work, but Data has and always will be my inspiration.

I love my sister, and I love that she did this for me, and I can't wait until next year! :)

Thanks again for reading, thanks so much for letting me know you're enjoying my story, and sorry for the off-topic blurb but I was so floored by what my sister did for me I just had to shout it to the universe!

Until next time! :)


	7. Chapter Six

_Hi! I'm back again with more story! I gotta say, finding out about that autograph my sister got for me and that Data actually _talked_ about me during the Q&A was a real shock - yes, so awesome! :) - but my sister refuses to show me the autograph until I finish my dissertation and get home. Talk about a motivator – gah! I'm going to have to work like crazy now to make up for the time I spent on this chapter yesterday and this morning, but that's OK, the sun is actually shining over Scotland, sort of, and I'm still way too hyper and too happy to concentrate properly so I'm going for a long bike ride to try to bring my warped brain back down to impulse speed. I'll get back on track with the deadlines this evening… Yeah, I've really got to stop babbling. Until next time (which will probably be a while, sorry!), I hope you enjoy this next part! Thanks again for reading; I'm always so grateful for your feedback! :)_

**Chapter Six**

Geordi strode into Ten Forward at 0703, fully expecting to find Danny Soong already standing at the bar waiting for him. Data had been meticulously punctual, and while he'd often claimed to be incapable of annoyance, Geordi knew it had discomfited the android when someone he'd been waiting for showed up late. He smiled a little to himself. Data always had been a worrier.

Ten Forward was a lot of things to a lot of people, mostly depending on the mood and time of day. Right now, it had the feeling of a breakfast café. The fresh, morning smells of coffee, orange juice, omelets, pancakes and toast filled the air. Civilians sat with their families, crew members sat in groups, often with their shift leaders, going over the duties and tasks of the coming day. Geordi scanned the busy room, running through the entire visible spectrum, but he couldn't spot Danny's readings anywhere.

"Hey, Guinan," he said, walking up to the bar, where the hostess was working her antique cappuccino machine. She glanced at him and seemed to sigh.

"If you're looking for Data," she said, "he's already been and gone. But, he left this."

She reached under the counter and pulled out Danny's leather jacket, folded so his communicator rested on top. Geordi took it with a frown.

"Are you saying he walked out?" he said. "Why would he do that? I was only three minutes late."

Guinan shook her head. "He was here hours ago, when I first came in to set up shop. I found him asleep in that chair." She pointed, and went back to her coffee-making.

Geordi furrowed his brow. "I don't understand this guy," he said. "Did you know I found him in the cybernetics lab last night? He took Lal's brain apart. Actually took off her head and deconstructed her brain. It's there now, spread out all over the table. But, when I asked him to take a look at Data, he practically flipped out."

"Well, wouldn't you?" Guinan said. She slid the frothy cappuccinos to the two security officers at the end of the bar, then glided toward Geordi.

"You're expecting him to take all this like an android, while he's just doing his level best to take it like a man," she said. "He's searching for stability, for something real he can hold on to, in a world where everything he thought was familiar is suddenly strange and frightening - including you and me. He came here last night half hoping I could wave a magic wand and send him home. I'm afraid I had to disappoint him."

"Do you know how he got here?" Geordi asked.

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips tightly together.

"He wants to help, Geordi," she said. "Just, don't push him. He pushes himself hard enough already."

"Great," Geordi said, sighed. "Just great. So, any idea where he might have gone?"

"I'd guess somewhere he can feel safe. In control."

"So, basically, he could be anywhere. And since I have his communicator, I can't get the computer to track him for me. Thanks a lot, Guinan."

"Geordi," she said. He turned back to her.

"Data needs a friend, not a monitor. Don't ask him to be what he's not."

"'Data,'" Geordi scoffed. "You mean 'Danny,' don't you." He frowned and draped the jacket over his arm. "I'll catch you later, Guinan."

* * *

Danny wasn't in his assigned quarters. He wasn't in the cybernetics lab or any of the smaller observation lounges on the residential decks. He wasn't in the arboretum or the gym. The better part of an hour had gone by in fruitless, frustrated searching before Geordi finally thought to check the holodeck logs.

Danny had signed out Holodeck Three just after 0500 hours. When Geordi got there, he found the program was still running. It was a custom program Danny had designed to some very specific specifications.

"Oh no," he muttered. "Please don't let this guy turn out to be another Barclay…"

Some four years ago, one of Geordi's officers, Lt. Reg Barclay, had developed a self-destructive habit of disappearing into holodeck-generated fantasy worlds whenever the real world got too stressful for him to handle. The Captain had assigned Geordi to draw out the shy engineer, to encourage him to confront and overcome the anxieties that had driven him to detach from reality and hide away in the first place. From what he'd seen of Danny, he was a pretty high-strung guy. If Danny was following that same escapist pattern…

Geordi stormed through the heavy double doors, fully expecting to encounter a simulated version of Danny's home reality.

Instead, he found himself…essentially…in a blank holodeck: a cube-shaped grid of black squares and yellow stripes. Off in the back, facing the far left corner, a battered-looking brown couch hulked in front of an old-style blackboard covered all over with chalked symbols, equations, and complicated snatches of computer code. A waist-high computer console stood beside it, and over that floated a slowly spinning holographic model of a positronic brain, about five times larger than the real thing.

Geordi moved closer, his VISOR picking up the heat signature of a lone human curled up on the couch. He seemed to be fast asleep, his breathing slow and regular.

Geordi leaned over him, not sure if he should shake him or leave the man to sleep. He'd left the cybernetics lab after midnight, after all, and if he'd been working in here since five…

"Danny?"

Danny came alive with a startled snort, lurching upright and staring around in blank disorientation. "Huh-what? Where… Geordi!"

He jumped to his feet, running his hands over his bristly face, his wild hair. He yawned hugely and shook the sleep out of his head.

"Whoa… What time is it?"

"Nearly nine. –But, it's OK, really!" Geordi hurried to add when he saw the man's horrified expression.

"Oh, God… Oh, Geordi, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep like that. I should have set the computer to alert me…"

"No, Danny, don't worry about it. Honestly," Geordi said, and held out his jacket. "Here, I think you forgot this."

"Oh, yeah…" Danny took the jacket with a sheepish grimace and sank back onto the couch, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

"Please don't think this is me," he spoke into his hands. "This is not me...sleeping late...missing appointments... I never would have let something like this happen back on my _Enterprise_. I am usually much more competent. There is no excuse for this level of unprofessionalism."

"Danny, come on. It's fine," Geordi said, starting to realize what Guinan had been trying to tell him. "So, what have you been doing in here?"

"What, this?" Danny said, glancing at his chalkboard and computer console. "I was attempting to trace the physical and programmatic manifestations of your Data's cognitive development. A positronic matrix is not a static thing, you know. It's equipped with learning algorithms and the ability to create and build upon physical neural links. His brain's changed a lot from the time these schematics were drawn. Here, look."

He got up and unrolled a huge sheet of blue paper over the console. Geordi recognized it as a holographic printout of the initial scans Starfleet had made of Data when he applied to the Academy.

"Using these basic blueprints as a baseline, I went back through your Data's diagnostic logs and got the computer to build me an oversized composite model, demonstrating the progression of his neural pathway development over the past thirty-odd years."

He gestured to the huge, floating brain, blinking red and green and yellow in the dim light of the holodeck grid.

"With this animated model serving as a control, I figured it would be easier for us to spot any anomalies when we go to look at the real thing today. In fact, I was hoping we might be able to bring him in here…if you think that would be all right. Unlike the cybernetics lab, the environment here can be precisely controlled, and I can get the computer to replicate any instruments or materials we might need."

Geordi stared at the spinning hologram, his lips parting in amazement as he realized just what Danny had done. This wasn't merely a computer-simulated image, it was a tangible, hands-on, interactive tool. A perfect replica brain, linked in with the ship's computer, that could be dissected, disassembled, altered, resized, reassembled, and tested for various functions without any risk to Data. He'd never have guessed the holodeck would be capable of creating something so incredibly sophisticated...yet, here it was.

"Danny…" he breathed. "Danny, this is amazing. You programmed this in just a few hours?"

"The information was readily available," Danny said. "Apparently, your Data uses the same password for his personal files as I do."

Geordi glanced at him. "So, you're a Holmes fan too?"

"Indubitably," Danny said, and smiled. "And don't look at me like that. I needed access to his diagnostic records to design the model, and I did not think it was right to wake you. Besides, there is nothing really new here. This set-up is quite similar to a program I designed to help separate Captain Picard from the Borg Collective."

"What do you mean?" Geordi asked.

Danny pointed to his blackboard. Geordi stared for a long time, not understanding. Then it clicked. That computer code Danny had scrawled in the corner - that wasn't for Data. It was for a modification to the holodeck computer.

"We had very limited time," Danny said, his eyes distant and his head slightly tilted, as if he was actually watching the memory play out as he spoke. "Far too little to devise and build a physical device. So, I had the Captain brought to the holodeck and reprogrammed the computer to allow me to implement a direct, physical positronic link from the main computer core to Captain Picard's Borg implants. Once established, we used the link to access the Borg subspace signals...and put the Borg to sleep."

He smiled a rather wolfish smile, then turned his gaze to Geordi.

"The Borg self-destructed soon after, and Captain Picard has since made a nearly complete recovery. But I thought, if the interlink program worked then...why not try it here as well? If it works, it could prove a highly effective diagnostic tool."

He glanced back at his model, then at Geordi, seeming a little tentative.

"So… You really do approve of this?" he said. "You think it could be effective?"

"Danny, I think it's brilliant!" Geordi gushed. "To be honest, I was a little nervous you might be planning to deconstruct Data's brain the way you did Lal's. But with this model…"

"The structure of your Data's adult positronic brain is far more sophisticated than Lal's infant brain," Danny said. "She was only operational for approximately two weeks before her shutdown, so there are far fewer pathways to trace and, if necessary, excise. I fear I would not trust myself to perform a similar operation on your Data. In fact, I would avoid direct physical tampering if I had a choice. Hopefully, the problem can be identified and repaired with a minimum of invasive procedures."

"Agreed," Geordi said, and grinned. Geordi knew he shouldn't say this, but he couldn't help thinking that, standing there, in the dim light of the console, his untamed hair sticking out in all directions, Danny looked the very image of Data's father, Noonien Soong. Instead, he said, "You must be pretty hungry after all this work. That invitation to Ten Forward's still open, if you're willing."

Danny nodded. "Thank you, Geordi." He brought a hand to his rough chin.

"But I am a mess," he said, trying and failing to smooth back his sleep-rumpled hair. "Would you allow me a few minutes to grab a sonic shower and a shave?"

Geordi's lips twitched involuntarily as the sight of Danny rubbing his chin brought back the memory of the one time Data had tried to grow a beard. He could practically hear his friend's voice in his head:

…_when I stroke the beard, thusly, do I not appear more…intellectual…_

With great effort, Geordi swallowed an explosive snicker, covering his twitching expression with a quick nod. "Yeah, of course," he said. "You want to go back to your quarters…?"

"That is not necessary. The computer can provide a functional facility here. I'll just be a moment."

Striding across the room, he called, "Computer, re-instate bathroom."

A door appeared and Danny disappeared through it, locking it behind him. Geordi stared after him for a moment, bemused, then walked over to sit on the couch, his gaze fixed on the floating, blinking, mechanical brain.

Guinan was right. Danny's personality was similar to Data's, and he had that same awkward, analytical, oddly distanced manner to him, but he was as human as they came, bogged down with all the biological functions, physical frailties, and emotional hangups that made the human condition such a daily joy for all concerned. He was, in a nutshell, everything Geordi's android friend had ever aspired to be.

Geordi sighed and lowered his head. How would Data react to Danny? To witnessing his most coveted dream, a flesh and blood reality? Geordi knew Data couldn't feel envy, but he had seen the android fret, and mope, and brood.

Would it be kinder not to tell him? If he could convince Danny to pretend to be Data's father…

Geordi shook that thought away before it could coalesce. Guinan had warned him not to make Danny into someone he wasn't, and she was right. Danny was a sensitive, honest guy, and he deserved to be treated honestly in return. But, Geordi felt he still didn't know enough about this Danny Soong to figure out who he really was; to understand what a human Data might actually mean...to acknowledge that the concept might not be as much of a contradiction as it had initially seemed.

Perhaps Data really had been more human than anyone had given him credit for. Including his best friend...

Danny emerged from the bathroom looking much more like Data and much less like a mad scientist, his pale face smooth and his dark hair brushed neatly back, although a few errant strands hung down over his forehead. A sonic shower cleaned a person's clothes as well as their body, so even his t-shirt looked fresh and unwrinkled.

"Would you like to…" Danny offered politely, gesturing to the open door as he pulled on his jacket. Geordi shook his head.

"I'm fine for now, thanks," he said. "And we're not expected down in Engineering for another three hours. So, breakfast?"

"After you," Danny said, and followed his friend to the corridor, calling over his shoulder, "Computer, discontinue bathroom and save program."

_To Be Continued..._

_References include TNG "Hollow Pursuits," "The Nth Degree," "The Offspring," "The Best of Both Worlds," "The Schizoid Man," "Birthright I," and the TNG novel "Metamorphosis."_


	8. Chapter Seven

_Hi! I'm back with more story! I got kind of stuck on my work last night and then I got a review on this story this morning, which always makes me really happy, so I got to thinking and then to writing and now here's a brand new chapter! Still gotta do that work though. *sigh* It never ends, does it..._

_I'm going to be away at a big academic conference starting at the end of this week and going into next week. I have to make a presentation, *nervous!* so please wish me luck. I hope you enjoy this next part of the story, and I hope you don't mind the technobabble! Thanks again for all your encouraging reviews! Your feedback really means a lot to me! :)_

_P.S. Data will be making his appearance in the next chapter. Stay Tuned! :)_

**Chapter Seven**

Danny brightened considerably as he and Geordi stepped off the turbolift to Deck Ten.

"Geordi, do you smell pancakes?" he asked excitedly, and took in a deep sniff. "I love fresh pancakes, made with real chicken eggs and topped with real, melty butter and maple syrup! Do you think, if I asked, Guinan might add some chocolate chips and bananas to the batter? When I was a student in Boston, I used to go to this little restaurant where—"

Geordi's combadge chirped, and Commander Riker's voice announced: "Attention, all senior staff. Please report to the Observation Lounge."

A moment later, Danny's combadge followed suit: "Commander Data, please report to the Observation Lounge."

Danny winced and tapped his communicator. "Acknowledged, Commander."

He glanced at Geordi, childlike disappointment all over his face. "No pancakes?"

Geordi pursed his lips to keep from chuckling. "Nope," he said and clapped the man on the shoulder as they turned back to the lift they'd just left. "But, look on the bright side. Maybe all those tests they put you through yesterday have turned up a clue."

"That would be good," Danny said glumly. "But, I really am starving." Suddenly, he tilted his head, his expression blooming with hope. "Geordi! In my reality, Counselor Troi always sets up this fantastic sampler platter for morning meetings. Does your Counselor Troi replicate breakfast platters like that, because I really like those little quiche things. And the mini bagels. Oh, and those crispy oskoid fronds from Betazed—do you like those Geordi? Geordi? Geordi, why are you laughing?"

The lift doors slid closed before Geordi could recover enough breath to reply.

* * *

There was no tempting breakfast platter waiting at the meeting, only a coffee and tea dispenser and a depressingly small plate of miniature pastries. Danny helped himself to some tea and a couple of tiny chocolate croissants, but despite his best efforts to keep up a positive attitude, once the meeting began, a grumpy cloud soon settled over him, and stayed there.

The first line of business was to discuss the ongoing process of dismantling the research station, housing the research scientists, and analyzing their collected data. It was all very routine and very tedious, but Danny paid polite attention to their problems until they finally got around to his. Unfortunately, Dr. Crusher's much anticipated test results had turned up nothing he didn't already know. Her report just confirmed what he'd been saying all along. Danny understood that was an important first step, finally having some hard, scientific data to back up his claims, but it was their apparent surprise that irritated him, as if they'd been doubting his story from the beginning.

"I've isolated Soong's quantum signature, Captain," Dr. Crusher had said, striding to the front of the room to play some animated visual aids on the screen behind the Captain's chair. "As you can see from these diagrams, we have identified a quantum flux in Soong's cellular RNA that extends to the subatomic level. This fluctuation is asynchronous with normal matter. You see, all matter in the universe resonates at a quantum level with a unique signature. That signature is constant, a basic foundation of existence, and it can't be changed by any known process."

"What does that signify in this case, Doctor?" the Captain had asked.

"There can be only one conclusion," Dr. Crusher had said, turning off the screen and returning to her seat. "This man, Danny Soong, originates from a different quantum universe."

Danny had rolled his eyes at the sheer _obviousness_ of the findings, then sunk into a deeper funk as the discussion that followed made it increasingly clear that they really had no idea how to proceed. Several theories and postulations were thrown on the table and bandied back and forth, but none seemed worth pursuing. Danny had kept quiet, not sure whether or not he was supposed to speak since he was not a member of staff and had no official standing on the ship, but finally he couldn't take it anymore.

"Why don't we run a broad-spectrum scan?" he said, his sudden participation seeming to startle the gathered officers. For all he knew, they'd forgotten was sitting there.

"Please, go on, Commander," Picard said.

"You know my quantum signature now," Danny pointed out, struggling to tamp down his frustration. "So, why do we not just scan for it?"

"Danny," Geordi said, "I've been trying to explain, our scanners just aren't sensitive enough to pick up the remaining residuals of such minute quantum fluctuations. On top of that, the signature you're looking for resonates at a slight phase variance with our reality, creating destructive interference that essentially cancels it out."

"Then what am I doing here?" Danny countered. "If my reality's quantum wave function is canceled out so completely by your reality's quantum wave function then how the hell can I be sitting here, solid and breathing, within your quantum reality?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out!" Geordi said.

"No, no! The _fact_ of my presence is not in dispute, and questioning it is only wasting time! The discussion at this point should _not_ be about how I _can_ be here, but how I arrived in the first place, where I arrived _from,_ and how I can be _returned,"_ Danny snapped, and leaned forward over the table, his fingers laced together. "Listen, even canceled waves leave an interference pattern, no matter how slight. A tomographic imaging scanner is capable of multiphasic resolution and could, theoretically, be used to detect that pattern. If you have one aboard – heck, even if you don't, we could modify the sensors to scan the area of space the _Enterprise_ was passing through when I arrived here for any sign of spatiotemporal weaknesses, rifts, or anomalies with a corresponding phase-shift resonance. And what about the transporter? I materialized here from somewhere, didn't I? You cannot have _half_ a transporter cycle, can you? So, why don't we go back to the transporter records, run a deep scan, try to reconstruct the full cycle record and trace my quantum signature back to the initial point of dematerialization?"

Picard looked from Danny to his chief engineer. "Mr. LaForge?"

Geordi widened his nostrils, shaking his head slightly as he thought through Danny's suggestions. Finally, he sat back and threw his hands up in a shrug.

"There's a lot of 'ifs' in there, sir," he said. "For one thing, tomography is about using penetrating waves to create a series of image 'slices,' then reconstructing the full picture. It's usually used for medical scans or geologic surveys. As far as I know a tomographic imaging scanner's never been used to scan for temporal or quantum anomalies. But," he admitted, "it's a place to start."

Picard nodded. "Then make it so. And take Transporter Room Three offline until your scans are complete," he said, and indicated the meeting was over. "Commander Data," he called as the senior staff began to file from the room.

Danny glanced at Geordi, then approached the captain.

"Sir?"

Picard looked him over, from his jacket to his shoes. "Has something happened to your uniform, Commander?"

"Commander Riker's summons caught me on my way to breakfast, sir," Danny told him. "There was no time to change."

Picard nodded. "I realize you are a guest here, but visiting officers on my ship – especially those I have asked to participate in an ongoing investigation – are expected –"

"To dress the part. Understood, Captain. With your permission, I'll go—"

"Not quite yet, Mr. Data," Picard said. "Or is it 'Doctor'?"

Danny glared down at his shoes. "What does it matter? It seems no one on this ship is comfortable acknowledging that _I_ _am_ Lt. Commander Data, not even Geordi, so just go ahead and call me whatever you want."

Picard's eyes narrowed. "Sit down, Commander."

Danny fought to suppress a grimace, but joined Picard at the table.

"I realize this can't be easy for you…"

Danny snorted. "_That_ is an understatement."

"But, that is no excuse to vent your frustrations on me or my crew," he said sharply. "Now, I want you to talk with Counselor Troi."

Danny flinched.

"Again? But, sir, Commander LaForge is expecting me to assist him with…"

"Talk with Troi first," Picard said firmly. "Data, none of us can pretend to understand the emotional turmoil you are going through right now. I want you to understand I am sympathetic to your feelings. But, bottling up your anxieties will help no one, and it certainly won't help you get home any faster. Am I understood, Commander?"

"Yes, sir," Danny acknowledged. "I just…" he sighed. "I apologize, sir. I would never have addressed my own captain in such a tone, and I should not have talked that way to you. I am grateful for all you are doing for me, and I will see the Counselor. But..."

"Yes, Commander?"

Danny focused his eyes on his folded hands. "What if we cannot solve this mystery before your work with the research station is complete?" he asked. "What will happen to me then? Am I to accompany you to the Daystrom Institute? And, what of my career...my position on the _Enterprise... _Am I still considered to be a Starfleet Officer if I was trained in another reality?"

Picard straightened in his chair.

"As far as I am concerned, Commander, you're as much a Starfleet Officer as I am. As for your position, I have been in contact with Starfleet Command regarding your...unique...situation. If you wish to remain aboard the _Enterprise_, I will be willing to submit a recommendation, but I'm sure you're aware I can make no guarantees. Just know we will do all we can to find a way to return you home to your family before we need concern ourselves with anything long term."

Danny nodded slowly. "Thank you, Captain."

"You may go, Mr. Data."

"Sir," Danny acknowledged, then rose and strode from the room.

* * *

Danny's uniform was in his assigned quarters. Danny walked up to the door, staying just out of range of the motion detectors that would trigger it to slide open, then turned sharply and strode straight back to the turbolift.

"Ship's Stores," he said, his face burning with embarrassment as the lift started moving. No one had witnessed his odd behavior, but he was still breathing heavily, his hands shaking slightly.

His intelligent, analytical mind told him he was being irrational, that his reaction was ridiculous, immature, and unbecoming a decorated and responsible senior officer.

Still, there was no way he was going to open the doors to his quarters. No way at all.

Danny knew the exact reason for his reluctance. He knew it all too well. But, he also knew that knowing didn't do a thing to change how he felt.

"Schrödinger's Cat," he whispered.

The turbolift let him off and he marched down the hall to Ship's Stores, muttering the same words over and over and over again...words he was barely aware he was saying: "Schrödinger's Cat. Schrödinger's Cat, Schrödinger's Cat, Schrödinger's Cat..."

"Sir?"

"Hm?"

Danny jumped and broke out of his half-conscious mantra, blinking blankly at the young Petty Officer who stood behind the storeroom console.

"Sir, were you saying something?"

"No, nothing," he said quickly. "I was just...um..." His eyes flitted all around the room, but refused to land on the young woman's face. "I need a uniform," he blurted.

"Then I'll need some identification," the woman retorted. "Name, rank, and Starfleet registration number, please."

"Lt. Commander Da- I mean, Daniel Soong. Registration 0045-0271A2," he rattled off, still unable to bring himself to check her expression. _She must think I'm some kind of nut,_ he thought bitterly as she tapped in his information.

"Wait...this is Lt. Commander Data's registration number," the woman said.

"Yes, that's me. I am Lt. Commander Data."

The woman seemed surprised. "No... Oh my God, you're him, aren't you! The human from the alternate universe! I've only seen Data a few times, but... Wow, you look just like him! Hey, Sarah!"

"No, no, please, don't call anyone else over," Danny said, his posture hunching in humiliation. "Just, please, can I have the uniform I requested?"

"Right away, sir," the woman said and strode away to fill his order, leaving Danny silently cursing the Starfleet regulation that official uniforms could only be replicated by personnel in Ship's Stores using a special prefix keycode.

She came back about half a minute later and laid a neatly folded gold and black uniform on the console, the insignia of a Lt. Commander already pinned to the collar.

"Here you are, Commander," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. He just hoped she wasn't laughing at him. He grabbed the uniform and turned to go.

"Um..." the woman called after him. "Sir? I know officers and enlisted personnel aren't supposed to...well...fraternize, but if you're free for a drink sometime, maybe...?"

Danny frowned. Was he hearing what he thought he was hearing?

For the first time, he looked the young Petty Officer in the face. She was Bajoran, and even younger than he'd thought, probably little more than twenty-one or twenty-two years old. He stared for a moment with his head slightly tilted, struggling to determine if he really was reading her intentions correctly. Flushed cheeks, slight smile, twirling her curly brown hair in a way that subtly exposed her neck...

All definite signals of flirtation.

Startled, he blurted, "I'm married," and practically ran back to the turbolift, leaving the young Bajoran and her friend Sarah giggling after him.

* * *

Danny hadn't felt so stupid and out-of-place since his last starship assignment, on the _Trieste_. It was as if all the hard-won confidence he had gained in his years aboard his _Enterprise_ was evaporating away, leaving him a self-doubting pillar of twisted nerves. Unwilling to even contemplate returning to his quarters, Danny changed in the gym's shower room and tossed his civilian gear into a waste receptacle, where the entire outfit dematerialized back into atoms for reuse elsewhere. By the time he'd rushed to Counselor Troi's office, he was out of breath and had to smooth back his unruly hair.

He sighed. His first full day in this awful reality was turning into a real pain. True, it was mostly his fault, him and his irrational aversions and impulses, but it wasn't even 1030 hours yet! Maybe things would be easier if he wasn't so damn tired...

For the first time, Danny found himself actually looking forward to a time when he could be alone with the broken androids, his scattered, frightened mind completely focused on the complex puzzle of their respective malfunctions. Until then, he'd have to deal with people. People and their expectations. People and their judgments. People and their knowing, prying stares...

And, speaking of Troi...

Danny took a bracing breath and pressed the button to signal his presence. A moment later, the doors slid open and the reluctant patient stepped into the counselor's office, still muttering, "Schrödinger's Cat..."

_To Be Continued..._

_References include: TNG "Pen Pals," "Menage a Troi," "Parallels," "All Good Things...," "The Naked Now," and "Clues."  
_

_Like it? Hate it? Indifferent? Have a suggestion or criticism? Please let me know what you think! :)_


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

"Good morning, Data. Please, have a seat."

Danny nodded and sat on the couch she indicated, his spine straight and his hands folded in his lap.

Counselor Troi's office was designed to be soothing, with soft colors and gentle, warm lighting, but Danny was not impressed by the ambiance. He turned his eyes to a delicate water sculpture and waited impatiently for Troi to start with the grilling.

Instead of questioning him, though, she stood and walked over to the replicator.

"I hope you don't mind if I order a snack," she said. "I'm afraid I missed out on breakfast this morning. Would you like something?"

"Well, I…"

"Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor if you joined me. I hate to eat alone."

Danny blinked. He recognized what she was doing. No doubt she'd picked up on his disappointment when he'd seen the pitiful refreshment plate at the morning meeting, and this was her way of subtly breaking the ice between them – as well as an attempt to improve his mood by raising his diminished glucose levels. It was a manipulative offer, but he had to admit, the prospect of turning a required therapy session into a shared meal was not unwelcome. In fact, he rather liked the idea.

"Um…all right, then," he said. "I'd like some pancakes, please. Banana pancakes. With butter and maple syrup."

Troi smiled and placed the order, along with a smoked fish, muskfruit, and oskoid salad for herself.

"Anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?"

"Tea, please," Danny said. "I…I've never managed to acquire a taste for coffee."

"Even with cream and sugar?"

He shrugged. "Tasha is the coffee drinker in our family. She has often said she would be unable to function in the morning without a mug of strong raktajino."

"But not you," Troi said, setting the replicated food out on her coffee table, along with utensils and napkins.

"No." Danny shook his head. "I find the bitter taste unpalatable, and the high caffeine content, which keeps her awake, actually makes me drowsy. Tasha often teases me about that. She believes it happens because I am so high strung to begin with; the caffeine overstimulates my system to the point that it knocks me out. I have never tested her theory scientifically, but I can attest that it is not a pleasant feeling. I would not choose to drink coffee as a means of combating insomnia, for example."

"Do you often get insomnia?"

"Yes," he said. "But I have never needed much sleep, even when I was a child."

Danny finished stirring his tea and met her gaze with his own.

"Before you question me any further along these lines, I believe you should know that my own Counselor Troi is well aware of my condition and its accompanying symptoms and, as it has never interfered with the performance of my duties, she has always trusted me to handle my anxiety, and my insomnia, as I see fit."

Troi nodded. "Then, I take it you would not be open to discussing possible medications—"

"I would not," Danny said firmly and fixed his attention on cutting his pancakes.

Troi nodded again, but her expression was troubled.

"Data," she said. "How long have you known that you have Asperger's syndrome?"

Danny fumbled his fork.

"You...you can tell?"

"Beverly picked up on it, during her scans," she said.

"Yeah, well, I would appreciate it if Beverly and you and anyone else who knows would please keep that information to themselves," he said, unable to keep his face from burning red. "So, I'm nervous. So, I'm anxious. I have _always_ been anxious. But my condition has _never_ impeded my performance during a crisis. _Never_. I have handled bizarre and dangerous situations before, and I am handling this situation now."

"I believe that you are," Troi said. "In fact, I think you are much stronger than you give yourself credit for, Mr. Data."

Danny tilted his head.

"You do?"

Troi smiled. "It was not my doubts or the Captain's doubts that brought you here, Data, but your own. You are worried about your ability to function now that you have been separated from your familiar surroundings. In fact, you worry so much about our perceptions of you, that you provoke the very reactions that you dread. We're not here to judge you, Data. We just want to understand you, and to help you get back home."

Danny closed his eyes and lowered his chin to his chest.

"I know..." he said quietly. "I...I understand that, and I am sorry I have been so...defensive. It is just...after all I have been through..."

He glanced up, his blue eyes rimmed with red. "I have had to fight so hard...so hard...at every step of my career. And even now, there are those who believe my admission to Starfleet was...a mistake. The fight has made me...wary...of those I do not know, and who do not yet know me."

Troi frowned. "I don't understand," she said. "You're obviously a bright, talented officer. Who would possibly have opposed your application?"

"There was a man...a neurologist... His name was Bruce Maddox. He opposed my admission on the grounds that my condition made me prone to panic attacks, which could prove a fatal flaw on deep space assignments. His was a lone voice, however. I passed every psych test the board threw at me."

Troi sat back in her chair, startled by the parallel with the Data she knew. A Bruce Maddox had also opposed the admission of her android friend to Starfleet, claiming Data was not a sentient being. But, that Maddox had been a cyberneticist.

"Data," she said, "the very fact that you made it through despite his protests only proves-"

"Yes, I know, I know, but that wasn't the end of it," Danny said, lacing his fingers together to hide their trembling. "I...I'm sorry, I don't want to talk about this."

"Did he try to transfer you?" she asked gently, drawing on his roiling emotions and her own Data's experiences to form an educated guess. "Did he try to separate you from the _Enterprise_, take away your position as a command officer?"

Danny rubbed his eyes hard and frowned at her. "How did you know?"

Troi knew paralleling Danny's trauma with the harassment his android counterpart had endured from Maddox would only put him on the defensive. The pain he felt was unique to him; lumping his experience together with the persecution her Data had faced would not be fair to either of them. So, she said, "Autism in any form is exceedingly rare in the Federation. Much of the literature on the condition focuses only on the most extreme and unusual cases. Finding you, observing how you face challenges and interact with the world around you... Maddox must have felt he'd found a diamond among the rocks."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "A diamond? More like a lab rat with some unusual tumor," he scoffed. "He wanted me to participate in some experiment to study the development of human intelligence. He thought by studying the way my brain was wired, he might be able to find a way to adapt my analytical talents to others without all the...negative emotional hangups..." He shuddered. "I was expected to take medications that would numb my anxieties - tranquilize my soul! - and he was always vague about whether his 'tests' would involve any...invasive procedures. When I refused to accept the transfer, Maddox took me to court."

He looked up at her, his face drawn and blotched with red. "You know, before that trial, I had fought and, ultimately, shut down a planet-sized arsenal programmed to seek and destroy all life forms on its surface or in orbit. I had sealed a temporal rift - a literal crack in time - faced up to the taunts and challenges of an omnipotent entity who could have destroyed all humanoid life with a thought had we failed his test. But until I stepped into that courtroom, I had never, never felt so frightened. So...primally exposed. Maddox was threatening my mind, my rights, my...my _self_. He honestly believed he was fully justified in treating me like...like a _specimen,_ a...a _thing_...just because my 'condition' was so rare. If he had won..."

"But he didn't," Troi said, reaching over his cooling pancakes to squeeze his tightly folded hands. "You beat him, Data. You forced Starfleet to look past Maddox's abstract proposals and recognize you for the man you are."

Danny swallowed hard.

"Yes..." he whispered. "At first, my victory was like an affirmation - that I had been right to trust in Starfleet's ideals, its promise of a community of mutual respect, despite my father's claims of Federation hypocrisy. After the trial, Tasha was so proud of me and I...I had never felt so confident, so...so honestly happy with my life, my friends, my future. Tasha and I were married within the month, and when Lal was born the following year it didn't even occur to us that it might have been wiser to keep her medical records confidential. I'd actually been a little glad she had inherited a very mild case of Asperger's from me...that, as she grew, we would share a similar understanding of our world. We just didn't expect...anyone would care. But, our little Lalena was only two weeks old when Admiral Haftel arrived from Starfleet Medical with his proposal to take our daughter to a 'special facility' where her development could be 'better monitored.'"

"Oh, Data..." Troi whispered.

"Captain Picard gave us his best defense," Danny said. "It took several weeks, but Tasha and I finally managed to convince Starfleet to leave Lal in our care. Still, that experience...even more than my trial...made us question Starfleet's values. It shook the core of everything we thought we'd believed. For a time, we seriously considered leaving Starfleet; taking our daughter to some colony world on the outer rim and throwing our careers back in their arrogant, bigoted faces. But, running away would not have solved the problem.

"These terrible things, these repeated threats to my life, to my daughter's life, to my family... They hurt us. Everyone who knew us was affected, and the media attention garnered by the controversy went far beyond that. The trials these high ranking Starfleet representatives put us through cut us deeply, shook our faith in ourselves and the organization we had pledged our lives to serve and protect. But, in shaking that faith, they taught us that Starfleet is not perfect. It is not a system to be idolized without question. Rather, it is a reflection of the imperfections of the beings that make decisions within its vast bureaucracy. Only by forcing those flawed individuals to face, recognize, and overcome their own prejudices can the organization ever hope to live up to its own ideals, and earn the respect and admiration of its citizens. It is as Worf said at the time: by fighting back, we made sure the Federation did not veer from the path of honor. And, as long as Tasha and I serve, we must make it our duty to ensure it never does."

Troi smiled.

"You and Tasha must be very close."

"We are family," Danny said.

"Does she also serve on the bridge?"

"No," Danny said. "Tasha heads the Emergency Medical Services department. She coordinates rescue operations, acting as a bridge between security and sickbay. Her office is two doors down from Dr. Crusher's, on Deck 12."

"I see," Troi said, intrigued. "We don't have an Emergency Medical Services department on this ship. Our medical and security teams are separate."

"Establishing the department was Tasha's idea," Danny said. "She turned down the position of Security Chief to make it a reality. Her coordination efforts and training courses have proved so efficient, similar EMS departments have been established on other Starfleet vessels, and they may soon become standard."

"You must be very proud."

"Extremely," Danny said, and smiled. "Tasha is an extraordinary person. Her vision and her passion has saved many lives."

"So, you admired her from the start."

"I had read her EMS proposal before we met aboard the _Enterprise_," he said, "and I was the first to approve it, followed by the Captain, and then Commander Riker, after the Farpoint mission that marked our maiden voyage together. Tasha appreciated my support and invited me to her celebratory dinner. We found we shared few common interests, and our personalities are practically polar opposites, but I knew there was something about her I could trust, implicitly, and she felt the same way about me. I have never thought of her as anything less than family. She is...very special to me."

"The prospect of being away from her, and from your daughter, must be-"

"Hard? Difficult? Devastating? Excruciating?" Danny suggested, taking a swig of cold tea.

"Handling something like that can be very tricky," Troi said. "People in those situations cope with the stress...the fear...in many different ways."

Danny shrugged and chewed his pancakes.

"I think the way that you have found is quite unique." She stared at him until she could catch his eyes with her own. "Schrödinger's Cat?"

Danny blinked and looked away, quickly. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Because, talking about it would make it real."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "If you know that, then you should understand why I don't want to talk about it."

"Data," she said. "You have to sleep somewhere. You can't keep avoiding your quarters."

"Yes I can," he mumbled.

"Geordi told me how he helped you rearrange the furniture there," she said. "How you refolded the towels, changed the lighting. You were setting it up for them, weren't you. So you could imagine they were there with you."

"Not physically there," Danny mumbled. "I know I am alone here. That they are safe back home in our own reality. But...the feeling that...that perhaps they had just stepped out... That...that the room was just...standing ready. Waiting for their return..."

"You don't want to disturb that illusion," Troi said. "The possibility. If you open the door..."

"Open the door and there can be only one reality," Danny whispered. "But, as long as it remains closed, who is to say my family is not there? In a multiverse of infinite possibilities, when you close the box, when you stop observing the stark realities, all you have left is probability."

"That is a rationalization," Troi pointed out.

"I am aware of that," Danny said. "But, for now, it serves the function of keeping the loneliness at bay, and it buffers that pain far more effectively than any pill or hypospray you or Dr. Crusher could prescribe. May I leave now?"

"Where are you going to stay tonight?" she asked.

"I will cross that bridge when I come to it," he said, and stood. "In the meantime, I have a great deal of work to do. With your permission, Counselor...?"

Troi pursed her lips, but got to her feet and strode to her computer panel.

"I'll let you go for now," she said, "but I want you back here again tomorrow, same time. You're going to have to face this, Data, whether it's now or later. Until you do, the pain and fear you've been rationalizing away will be hanging over you like a sword, waiting to drop."

"With luck, it will not have the chance," Danny said. "For, I do not intend to remain here long enough for my rationalizing buffer to falter. Thank you for the breakfast, and the tea. I believe our talk has done me some good."

Troi gave him a small, acknowledging smile, but before he made it to the door, she called, "Data?"

"Yes, Counselor?"

"Do you really believe you can find out what caused our Data's system failure?"

Danny paused, considering.

"I can make no promises, Counselor," he said. "But from what I have learned so far, studying the construction of both Lal and her father, I believe there is a very good chance."

"Thank you," Troi said, allowing the depth of her sincerity to show in her eyes.

Danny nodded once, and strode from the room.

* * *

A man was pacing the cybernetics lab when Danny strode in later that evening. He was tall and slim with pale, thinning hair, and he moved his limbs and fingers in quick, anxious jerks.

For a moment, Danny was gripped with the urge to back right out again, and pray the man hadn't seen him. After spending the day in Engineering struggling to navigate the stressful awkwardness of working among familiar-looking strangers who expected him to think, react, and compute like an android, he'd really been looking forward to some time on his own. But, the man was staring at him. Danny couldn't just ignore him, and he didn't want to make a bad impression. So, he decided to smile.

"Hello," Danny greeted. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Danny Soong, but everyo- Well... Everyone _back home_ calls me 'Data.'"

"Uh...Ba-Barclay," the man stammered.

Danny tilted his head, noticing Barclay's wide eyes, his sweaty palms. Was this man afraid of something? Of him?

Curious now, and a little concerned, Danny adopted a friendly expression and a light, teasing tone he'd learned from Commander Riker.

"Just 'Barclay'?" he prodded.

The man released a bashful laugh, and Danny nodded, satisfied he wasn't the cause of the man's discomfort.

"No, well...'" Barclay said, and straightened. "OK, let's try this again. I'm Lt. Reginald Barclay. Systems Engineer and Diagnostician. You can call me 'Reg.' Uh, that is, if you want, sir. I, uh... I've been down on the surface, helping with...with the, uh, dismantling the station's laboratory, but when I heard..."

He took in a long breath through his nose, then smiled broadly and held out his hand.

"I'd like to help," he said, "if I can. Data is...was..._is_... Well, he's a friend of mine." Barclay squinted. "You really... You really do look extraordinarily like him."

Danny nodded and shook the man's hand.

"So I've heard," he said wryly, starting to like this earnest engineer. There was something about him, something familiar...

Danny had become friends with several psychiatrists while in college, friends who had kept in contact with him throughout his career. At least once a year, they invited him back to his alma mater to speak and interact with current students who suffered from various anxiety disorders, ranging from bashful shyness to severe agoraphobia. Most were very bright and engaging, but very few of them had believed themselves confident enough to apply to Starfleet, as he had.

Danny suddenly realized that Barclay's manner and hesitant way of talking reminded him strongly of those students - self-doubting, worried about failing to live up to their own expectations, the expectations of others. Frightened of change, of finding themselves lost in an unfamiliar situation; the dread of being caught unprepared. If he was like them, with his expertise as a diagnostic systems engineer, Barclay could easily have found a position doing research or laboratory work on a planet, starbase, or shipyard - a position that would offer him a steady, reliable routine, where change came only slowly, allowing plenty of time to adapt. Instead, Barclay was there, on the _Enterprise,_ a deep space exploration vessel that was positively infamous for encountering the strange, the dangerous, and the unexpected.

He regarded the man, trying to see past his twitching expression and his fidgeting feet to the determination that kept him there, looking Danny straight in the eye. To be there, to be willing to hammer his way out of his nervous shell day after day after day, he had to be a far, far tougher personality than he appeared. And, if Barclay really was a friend of the mechanical Data, who was _he_ to decline his offer to help?

"Very well," Danny said. "I had been planning to request a site-to-site transport of your Data's body from the, uh...from there," he gestured vaguely toward the crypt, still unable to look directly at it without shivering, "...to Holodeck Three, but now you're here we can use an antigrav sled and bring some extra equipment along. Would you care to...to open the, um..."

Barclay nodded and strode across the room to open the crypt door.

Danny turned away, busying himself gathering equipment so he wouldn't have to watch while Barclay pulled out the metal table and carefully transferred the android's still, sheet-draped body to a long, floating antigravity sled. He only rejoined the engineer when he began to maneuver the sled toward the door.

"Wait," he said.

Tasha had once told him there were two kinds of swimmers: those who sidled into the water, shivering with each step, and those who dove straight in. Danny had never been one to sidle. He might avoid, debate, or procrastinate for a while, but if he was going to take the plunge, he was going all the way.

Placing the tools and scanners at the foot of the sled, Danny stepped closer, holding in his breath until, with one swift motion, he pulled down the sheet that covered the android's face.

"_Shiee-gosh_!" he yelped, jumping reflexively back, his body wracked by a harsh shudder. Barclay started in alarm.

"Commander? Are you..."

"That's not me!" Danny exclaimed, still gulping for air after his shock. "He's not- That's Archie!"

"What? Who's Archie?"

"He's...he's an android my father built...long ago... But...but I don't understand," Danny said, staring wide-eyed at the android's white-gold complexion. "If this is...Data... My counterpart... Why does he look so..."

Barclay looked enlightened.

"You thought he would look more human?"

"Everyone said he looked like me. I just assumed..." Danny took a deep breath and sighed.

"Well," he said, and almost smiled. "This might just make things a little easier. I was having a hard time imagining what it would be like to operate on my own brain...even a positronic version. But, now I know he looks like Archie, and _ not _like me... Yes. I really think I can do this. Are you ready, Mr. Barclay?"

The engineer nodded.

"All set, sir."

"Then let's get him to the holodeck!"

* * *

Geordi was jolted from a deep and much-needed sleep by the repeated signal of an incoming communication. Groping for his VISOR, the exhausted engineer groaned and slapped the com panel by his bed. As he did, he glanced at the clock readout.

0316.

He fell back on his pillow and groaned again.

"LaForge here," he mumbled. "What's the emergency?"

"No emergency, Geordi," came Danny's voice. "I just thought you would like to know we found it."

"What?" Geordi said, blearily blinking the sleep from his brain. "You found...huh?"

"I found the cause of your Data's shutdown," Danny reported. "That is, Mr. Barclay and I found it. It is a rather peculiar code cluster, most likely alien in origin, that has been acting on your Data's systems like an old-style computer virus. I believe I can remove the infiltrating code and repair the damage it has caused him, but I felt I should contact you before I went ahead with the procedure. In case you wished to be present. In addition, I have a few questions I would like to ask regarding any symptoms he may have experienced before his shutdown. Such information may help me stabilize his system and prevent any future recurrences."

"Yeah... Yeah, of course!" Geordi exclaimed, jumping out of the bed and fighting his way out of his pajamas and into a fresh uniform. "I'll be right there!"

"I will wait for you, Geordi," Danny said, and broke the connection.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

_References include: TNG "The Measure of a Man," "The Arsenal of Freedom," "We'll Always Have Paris," "The Offspring," and "Encounter at Farpoint."  
_

_Hi! In case you were wondering, the conference was AWESOME! Thank you so much for your marvelous reviews! :)  
_


	10. Chapter Nine

**Couldn't sleep...again...so, here's some more story! To make a "Conundrum" reference:**

**"I hope you enjoy it."**

**"I hope you enjoy it."**

**;)**

**Chapter Nine**

Data's body lay on a padded biobed, long cords stretching from open access panels in his skull to the central console which, in turn, was linked to the oversized diagnostic brain model that floated overhead. The android had been interred in his dress uniform, which he still wore, the rows of colorful service ribbon bars under his communicator symbolizing some of Starfleet's highest honors. The Legion of Honor. The Star Cross. The Starfleet Decoration for Gallantry. The Starfleet Medal of Honor…

"It will take approximately fifteen minutes for the computer to run a complete systems diagnostic," Danny said abstractedly, his sharp eyes following the lines and lines and lines of code scrolling across his console's monitor screen as the floating diagnostic brain blinked frenetically above him. "If no residual anomalies are found, I believe it will be safe to reinitialize his activating units."

Geordi nodded and stretched his stiff shoulders, struggling to stifle a yawn.

"Great!" he said. "Then, you won't mind if I go grab a quick coffee."

"Please, be my guest," Danny said, his eyes never leaving the screen as he called out, "Computer: re-instate corner replicator."

Geordi smirked. This guy really was making himself at home here. But, he knew the Captain certainly wouldn't approve of Danny setting up house in a holodeck, however he felt about his assigned quarters. It just wasn't…healthy.

"You want anything, Reg?" he said as he walked past the engineer to place his order, pausing only to pet Spot, who was curled up on the back of the battered old sofa. The orange cat had been staying with Barclay since Data's system crash, and with Geordi while Barclay was down on the surface, but the cat was now lounging in the holodeck at Danny's request, since Danny said he'd be able to focus better knowing Spot was there.

Barclay stood between the prone android and the floating brain, his long fingers tapping at his chirping tricorder as he analyzed the thin, nearly transparent isolinear chip that now held the extracted virus program. When Geordi spoke, he glanced up with a lurch of surprise.

"Huh? What? Oh, uh, no. No, Commander. Nothing for me, please, sir," he said, and went back to work.

"Danny?"

"No thank you, Geordi. I am fine for the present."

So, Geordi slurped at his caffeine kick alone and shook his head at the busy pair. It had taken the three of them more than four hours to track down the infiltrating virus, isolate all affected code, erect a system of firewalls to prevent the virus from spreading from Data through the holographic diagnostics console to the main computer, and adapt a quarantine and removal program that wouldn't wipe, impair or further corrupt any of Data's own programming. Now, it was fast coming up on 0745, and Geordi had to fight to keep alert. Danny and Barclay, though, they seemed almost more focused now than they were during the day. Maybe there was something to be said for hyperactive nervous disorders. Then again, Danny had been up for almost two nights straight and, as for Barclay… Well, when they crashed, they were going to crash hard. Fortunately, Barclay had just finished his rotation on the surface and Geordi and Danny wouldn't be expected in Engineering until afternoon shift, since he'd blocked off the morning to work on restoring Data. Still, a little grogginess was a small price to pay for the hope of reviving his best friend.

The virus attacking Data was unlike anything the three experts had encountered before. It didn't seem designed for any specific function, like mining or erasing information. It was just there: a strange, insanely complex polymorphic code that modified its decryption modules each time it replicated itself, piggybacking Data's own programs as it moved from system to system, wreaking havoc everywhere it went. Its metamorphic properties had hidden it from Data's self-diagnostic program, and from Geordi's deepest and most thorough scans, until it was too late to stop the corrupted code from instigating a fatal systems crash. Only careful comparison with Danny's sophisticated model had showed up the minute discrepancies between Data's real code and the mutated piggyback virus and, even then, it would have been impossible for Geordi and Barclay to identify and isolate the thing's myriad permutations without Danny's intimate, if slightly rusty, understanding of his father's positronic brain design – the workings of which even Data didn't fully comprehend.

"What I still don't understand," Geordi said as he walked back to the console, feeling headachy and only slightly more awake, "is just how Data caught this thing in the first place. I mean, where the hell did it come from? And why just him? Why haven't any of the ship's systems shown signs of this infection?"

"I do not know," Danny said, and glanced at him. "Perhaps, if you described his actions just before his collapse…?"

Geordi winced. The pain of that day was still so fresh…

"He wasn't doing anything special," Geordi said quietly. "He'd just come off bridge duty, so I asked him to join me in Engineering to lend a hand with some routine sensor diagnostics. I figured, with his help, I could let some of my double-shifters off for an early night. He agreed, I let my guys leave, and the two of us started working. A scan like that doesn't take much brain power, so Data started prodding me to critique this short story he'd written. I…I didn't want to admit I hadn't actually read the thing, and was trying to hedge my way around his questions, when he suddenly stepped back from the console. I asked him if he was OK. He said his vision was impaired, then he gasped and brought his hands to his temples. He stumbled a few steps, then fell to his knees and…and…he actually vomited. It wasn't…I mean, he hadn't eaten. It was just some yellowish digestive liquid. But still, I hadn't even known Data _could _vomit. For this one, awful moment, he looked at least as shocked as I felt. Then he said, 'I am so sorry, Geordi,' and blacked out. Just like that. He…he hasn't woken up since."

Geordi released a slow, shaky breath and blinked hard to hold back the tears the memory had brought to his eyes.

Danny knit his brows.

"Was there nothing to precipitate these symptoms?" he asked. "Nothing unusual – a flickering light, a change in atmospheric pressure…an alien scan perhaps?"

Geordi shook his head.

"No, we thought of that when Data first collapsed. But, there's been nothing unusual on board since we met up with that weird D'Arsay archive more than a week ago. Once the Captain shut it down, everything went back to normal. Data was just fine."

Danny looked thoughtful.

"It is possible the virus had been lying dormant in his systems for some time," he said. "For months, perhaps, or even years. Mr. Barclay's analysis of the virus program should be able to give us some clues as to its origin which should, in turn, indicate the source and approximate time of infection. We can then investigate possible triggers."

"Years…" Geordi's expression tightened. "Oh my God…"

Danny regarded him curiously.

"Geordi? Is something wrong?"

"What if… Could he have been that vindictive…?"

"Who?" Danny asked. "What are you talking about, Geordi?"

"Lore," Geordi said, his voice flat and cold.

Danny blinked in alarm.

"Lore? You mean, my brother has a counterpart here as well?" He grimaced, horrified by the implications. "Please, please, Geordi, tell me Lore is not an android too."

"Data's very own evil twin." Geordi scowled. "You mean he's a psycho nut in your universe as well?"

"'Psycho nut' may not be the most accurate term," Danny said. "Loren is not psychotic. In fact, he has a very firm, if highly pessimistic, grasp of reality. My half-brother is a diagnosed sociopath. He is very charming, on the surface, and highly intelligent, but he has no…no sense of empathy. No conscience. However much he may pretend, deep down he cares for no one's welfare but his own."

"Yeah, that sounds like Lore, all right," Geordi scoffed. "You said he's your half-brother. Let me guess: same father?"

Danny nodded.

"My father was fifty-three years old when he and my mother first met," he said. "I was born five years after that. But, before we knew him, my father lived a different life – a life he often said he was not very proud of. In that life, he conceived a child with a fellow postgraduate student, Irene Graves. When she refused to marry him, my father attempted to raise the child on his own but he soon realized that, like Graves, he was incapable of putting the child's needs before his. He brought the boy to a foster care agency on Galor IV and, although he promised to return, he never went back.

"By the time Lore finally tracked my father to Terlina III, I was eight and Lore was thirty-seven, with a lifetime of manipulation and cruelty already behind him. Our father had never spoken of him, so his existence came as quite a shock to me, and to my mother. But…but before we came to learn just what he was, I have to admit…having a 'real' brother was wonderful.

"Lore was curious about me. He paid attention to me, taught me games he'd learned at the orphanage, listened when I talked – not just about cybernetics and music theory, but about things _I _was interested in, like biology, physics, astronomy, and history. Lore introduced me to comedy and popular fiction and, for a while…a long while…I honestly adored him. But, slowly, the true intent of his visit rose to the surface and the ultimate outcome of this…reunion…was Lore's incarceration in a Federation rehabilitation colony for the attempted murder of my father, my mother, and myself. He may well have succeeded, had he not disregarded Archie. His callous attitude toward my android brother was, ironically, his downfall, and our salvation."

Danny's eyes went distant and a little sad, a look Geordi had often seen on Data's face when the subject of Lore came up. Then, Danny sighed.

"My father told us, many times, that my mother and I were his second chance to get things right. But, he didn't. He ignored us – perhaps not to the same extent that he had ignored Lore, but he did only seek out our company when it suited him to do so. My father shared many of Loren's negative traits. He was selfish, stubborn, manipulative, emotionally distant, and unsympathetic to anything other than his own pleasure or discomfort. And before Lore…left…"

Danny swallowed and stared at his feet.

"He told me I was just the same. That I, too, lack empathy and emotional depth. I was just too isolated from society to realize how…empty…I really was. I have spent my life striving to prove him wrong. But sometimes, I...I can't help but wonder if, maybe…"

He shivered slightly, then offered Geordi a small smile.

"But, why are we talking about Loren?" he said. "Do you believe your Data's Lore may have infected him with this piggyback virus?"

Geordi frowned, still a little overwhelmed by Danny's story, and the insidious psychological trauma Lore had caused his friend in both universes. But he said, "I don't know. It's possible. Lore did kidnap Data once, about a year ago. Bastard tried to manipulate him into leaving Starfleet and joining his damned Cause – trumpeting the supposed 'superiority' of 'fully artificial life forms.' Data managed to break free of Lore's brainwashing and stop him before…before things went too far. But... How could a computer virus manifest in Data's systems as a physical illness? And why lie dormant for so long before activating? I mean, what's the point?"

Danny shrugged, and he glanced up at the floating brain.

"Your Data's design mirrors ours in much more than just shape," he said. "There are many ways in which we are more alike than unlike. Perhaps-"

He would have said more, but the console let out a soft bleep, the model brain's rapid blinking slowed, and the results of the diagnostic showed up on the screen. Danny grinned.

"Diagnostics report all clear," he said. "Looks like the self-correcting mechanism has done its job. Pre-virus back-ups of all corrupted systems have restored full functionality, and there appears to be no trace left of the piggyback virus. We can initialize the reboot whenever you're ready, Geordi."

"Then, let's go for it," he said, striding to Data's side. "You all set there, Reg?"

"Hm?"

The engineer looked up from his analysis and realized what was going on.

"Oh – you're going to…already…?"

He hurriedly placed the isolinear chip he'd been studying on the computer console and joined Geordi and Danny by the biobed – turning away before his eyes could catch a brief, lightening-like flash that passed between the chip and the sophisticated computer station.

Picking up a thin, probe-like tool, Geordi gently turned Data's head to the side and brought the instrument to the exposed circuitry at the back of Data's skull.

"Initializing activating units," he reported as he released a focused charge. There was a brief flash of static, and the little lights in Data's head lit up and began to blink red, yellow, and green.

The three men cheered in delight, and Geordi brought a hand to Data's back, right near his spine.

"Come on, Data," he muttered, "come back..."

His fingers found the android's power switch and Data lurched into a sitting position, blinking his golden eyes in disorientation as his conscious awareness caught up with his diagnostic records and the readings from his internal chronometer.

"Data!" Geordi exclaimed, practically jumping for joy. "Data, you're back! You're alive!"

Data blinked again, tilted his head, then cast his eyes around the dim room, acknowledging Barclay's delighted grin with a slight, confused nod.

"Geordi. What has happened? Why am I in...what I assume to be the holodeck...?" He glanced down at himself and gave a slight start. "...wearing full dress uniform?"

Geordi couldn't seem to stop beaming.

"It's a long story, Data, but..."

He grabbed the android's shoulders and pulled him into a fierce, brotherly hug.

"I really thought I'd lost you there, buddy," he said, trying not to sniffle on Data's dress uniform as his eyes filled with tears. "Don't ever scare me like that again, OK? You promise?"

"I cannot promise if I do not know what I did to scare you," Data pointed out.

Geordi pulled away and took off his VISOR so he could wipe his face on his sleeve.

"You were declared dead, Data," he said, once he could trust himself to speak again. "We had a memorial service and everything. Lots of balloons, music - you would have loved it."

Data seemed disquieted.

"Dead? But, how can that be? The last thing I remember before waking up here was assisting you with the sensor diagnostics in Main Engineering."

"That's the thing, Data, we don't really know," Geordi said. "It seems you were infected by some sort of malevolent virus. It caused a systems failure. But, fortunately, we've got a friend here who showed up just in time to save your butt. Now, where'd he..."

He glanced around the room, searching for Danny's heat signature.

"Where'd he go?"

"I...I didn't hear the doors..." Barclay said, turning in almost a full circle.

Data wrinkled his brow.

"Where did who go, Geordi?"

"Me."

Data turned just in time to see Danny step out from behind the all black, floor-to-ceiling box that contained the holographic bathroom. He moved slowly, a slight, awkward smile on his face and Spot cradled securely in his arms.

Data stared, as if unable to reconcile the visual information his optical sensors were processing with his current understanding of reality.

"You are not a hologram," the android observed.

"No," Danny acknowledged, scratching Spot behind the ears. "My name is Lt. Commander Dr. Danny 'Data' Soong. I am...your quantum duplicate."

Data's eyebrows rose so high they almost collided with his hairline. "Hm!"

Danny nodded his sympathy.

"I understand your reaction. By all rights, I should not be able to exist here. But, all multiphasic, omniversal incongruities aside, I am pleased to finally meet you." He smiled. "Brother."

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

_References for this chapter include TNG "The Measure of A Man," "Time's Arrow II," "Contagion," "Masks," "Brothers," "Inheritance," "The Schizoid Man," "Descent," "The Naked Now," "Legacy," and the TNG novel "Boogeymen."_

Reviews are a little tweeting bird chirping in a meadow. Reviews are a wreath of pretty flowers that smell BAD. No, wait, that's 'logic.' Reviews smell wonderful! LOL! Can you tell I was listening to _I, Mudd _while I wrote this? TOS androids always make me kind of sad. All of 'em, especially Rayna. Yeah, I'm really sleepy now. But, until next time, if you're reading this chapter, please let me know what you think! :)


	11. Chapter Ten

**Updated and edited! Please let me know what you think! :)**

**Chapter Ten**

It was getting close to the time the captain had scheduled to meet with his senior staff. Before breaking up to get ready in their respective quarters, Geordi had urged Data not to contact Picard or the other senior officers with news of his recovery, saying he wanted to see their faces when Data walked in the room, alive and well. Data had seemed a little uncomfortable with the prospect of making that sort of grand surprise entrance, but Geordi had been so enthusiastic, the android had reluctantly agreed. Once Geordi left, Barclay excused himself as well, but not before giving Spot a lingering hug good-bye.

"I-I must admit, sir… I am going to miss the little furball," he said to Data, meeting the cat's wide-eyed stare with an affectionate gaze as he handed the sleek feline back to her rightful caretaker. "Will… Will you still be wanting me to…to, uh, cat-sit…now that you're…?"

"Of course," Data said. "You are one of the few people aboard for whom Spot has shown genuine affection." He rubbed his cat behind the ears. Spot closed her eyes and purred with satisfaction.

Barclay beamed his quick, shy smile, thanked him, and strode from the holodeck, leaving Data and Danny alone for the first time. Faced with his counterpart's calm, golden stare, Danny felt as awkward and uncomfortable as a pimple on a prom queen's nose.

"So," he said.

"So," Data parroted.

"I, uh… I suppose you will be wanting to change your uniform."

Data glanced down at his dress uniform and nodded.

"Indeed, you are quite correct."

Danny swung his arms, then clasped his hands behind his back.

"May I accompany you?" he asked.

Data regarded him, his head slightly tilted.

"To your quarters," Danny elaborated. "I… If you don't want me tagging along I understand, but I am curious to see where you live."

Data nodded once.

"Certainly," he said politely and gestured to the exit with the arm that wasn't cradling Spot. "After you."

Danny saved the diagnostic program and followed the android out, failing to notice, as he did, that the holodeck grid seemed to wriggle and waver behind him...

* * *

"Erm...Data?" Danny said awkwardly, his eyes roving over the android's possessions while Spot curled up on the edge of a pull-out couch and Data changed in the adjoining room. He knew it was irrational and extremely selfish, given where he was, but he really resented having to address this man with a name that had always been uniquely _his_. "May I make a personal inquiry?"

"Please do," the android said.

"What are you doing up here on Deck Two?" he asked. "Crew quarters on this deck are cramped – tiny! Most have shared personal facilities. And none have viewports. As Second Officer, are you not entitled to better accommodations?"

"'Better' is a subjective term," Data called back. "These quarters are sufficient for my needs."

"Sufficient?" Danny made a face. "Data, we're out here in deep space, exploring places most beings can only imagine. Don't you want to see the stars?"

Data stepped out in his regular duty uniform, looking so much like a moonlit mirror it gave Danny a visible chill. Data didn't seem to notice.

"I am an android," the android stated, as if his guest didn't know. "As such, I do not suffer from claustrophobia, cabin fever, or any similar complaints that occasionally afflict organic beings over the course of a long mission."

"That may be so," Danny said, "but being an android does not change the fact that your rank and position entitles you to more personal space and a private viewport. Why deny yourself these advantages, especially on a beautiful ship like this?"

Data cocked his head, his brow furrowed.

"Deny myself… Hmm. I had not considered it in those terms."

"In what terms had you considered it?"

"In terms of my previous assignment, aboard the _Trieste_," the android said_. _"I had assigned quarters aboard that ship, but as I only rarely went off duty, I only made use of them when had I to wash myself and change my clothing. I had no need to sleep, no friends to pay me a visit, no pets to house and care for, and no personal items to store. Assuming my experience aboard the _Enterprise_ would be similar, I initially made the argument that assigning me any quarters at all would be superfluous, but regulations require each registered crewmember be assigned a berth. I then requested shared quarters, believing I would only rarely make use of the space, but my rank entitled me to private quarters, so I chose to accept the smallest private room available. At first, the decision seemed logical. In fact, for the first few months, I had no furnishings but a private computer console I spent my off-hours improving. Since that time, though, the relationships I have developed with my crewmates have encouraged me to 'branch out,' if you will – to begin accruing possessions that reflect my individual tastes and recall significant experiences I have had, and to make creative use of my accumulated personal, recreational, time. And, it is only since I discovered my dream program last year that I began taking time off to sleep."

Danny's eyes sharpened with interest.

"You sleep? As in, you actually become unconscious and pass through the stages of sleeping and dreaming, as a human would?"

"Not exactly," Data admitted. "But I can shut down my cognitive functions for brief periods, during which time what I have termed my 'unconscious' provides me with vision-like scenarios I call 'dreams.' I have even suffered nightmares, the content of which were directly related to threats I could not perceive with my conscious mind."

Danny nodded, his brain practically buzzing with postcard-perfect snapshots from his childhood: conversations with his father, overheard mutterings, snatches of scribbled code he'd glimpsed in his father's old-fashioned paper notebooks. Sketched outlines for a radical, revolutionary program his father had never completed, yet seemed to operate with startling success in the constructed brain of the man before him.

"Intriguing," he breathed.

"The dream program was apparently included as part of my base programming," Data told him. "I believe my father intended to activate it once I had reached a certain level of cognitive development. It is unfortunate that circumstances denied him the opportunity to observe my cognitive growth first-hand. There remains much that I do not know about my father's designs."

He regarded Danny with his calm, golden eyes.

"You saved my life," he said. "And, for that, I am enormously grateful. It is clear you have considerable expertise in cybernetics, as well as a great deal of specific knowledge regarding the design and programming of Soong-type androids."

"That is true, up to a point," Danny said. "My knowledge is mostly second-hand, based on memories drawn from early childhood. I abandoned cybernetics when I left home as a teenager."

Data raised his eyebrows.

"If that is the case, your memory retention must be truly impressive."

"For a human, you mean?" Danny said wryly. "I suppose it is. I have what I call a semi-photographic memory. I can recall almost everything I've ever experienced, but the information I want doesn't always show up when I need it, even if I can _feel_ it's there. I suppose you have perfect recall."

"I do."

Danny nodded, struggling to swallow back a spike of jealously.

"So, let me guess," he said. "You're gearing up to ask me if I know whether your father hid any more surprises in your base programming. If you are, my answer will have to be: no. I have no idea. Not without further study, at least."

"That was to be my question," the android admitted, but his expression remained intensely curious. "You said you left home as a teenager," he said. "Can I assume your father also objected to your decision to join Starfleet?"

Danny chuffed a slight, bitter laugh.

"'Object'?" he said. "'Object' is an understatement. When my father found out I'd joined the Fleet, he dropped all contact with me for almost a decade. It was as if, to him, I did not exist."

"Then you did not have a positive relationship with your father?"

"I didn't have any relationship with my father," Danny said. "At least, not until I got engaged. I think it was only then that my father began to understand that I really was my own person, with my own life and my own ambitions. I was never going to turn tail, revoke my dreams of exploration and discovery, and return home to become the cyberneticist he wanted me to be. I was not going to dedicate my life to vindicating his name or even to carrying on his work in artificial consciousness. And, if he did not accept me for who and what I was, he was going to lose out on any opportunity to know his grandchildren. In the end, it was he who swallowed his pride, accepted my advances toward reconciliation, and allowed our family to finally knit together as a close and caring unit. We could not repair our damaged past, but we found we could move on from it. From the time my daughter was born to the time of his death, I can honestly say my father and I had become friends."

"You have a daughter?" Data said, his expression oddly tight.

Danny nodded, turning his smooth ring around and around on his finger.

"Yes. And I miss her and my wife terribly. I can only hope the apparent time difference between our realities works to their advantage and, from their perspective, our time apart is short. It distresses me to think of them worrying about me...not knowing where I am...afraid I may never come home..."

Data seemed hesitant, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he said, "May I inquire…"

"Tasha," Danny told him. "My wife's name is Tasha. We call our daughter Lal – short for Lalena." He smiled - a warm, fleeting grin. "My sweet little Lally-Pop. She's nearly two years old now. Commander Riker often says she's the most precocious child you'd ever care to meet, and as smart as a whole shipment of whips. I am not entirely sure what that means, but I do know he intends it as a compliment."

Data averted his eyes and seemed to swallow, hard. Danny regarded him curiously.

"I am sorry if this disturbs you. I was told that, in this universe, Tasha Yar was kil—"

"You were told correctly," Data cut him off, then fixed him with his golden stare. "In the holodeck, Geordi said that, so far, no significant progress has been made in determining how or why you arrived here."

"True enough."

"Then, perhaps, we could assist each other."

"What do you have in mind?" Danny asked.

"Approximately three years ago, I learned my father had created a very special program for me," Data said. "A program that would allow me to experience emotions. The data chip it was on was, unfortunately, stolen before my father had a chance to install it and was later damaged during its recovery. As a result, the emotional program no longer functions. I was hoping that, perhaps, with your expertise, you might be able to repair the chip and recover the data it contains. My own efforts have, so far, proved unsuccessful."

Danny looked startled, and deeply confused.

"I don't understand."

"What do you mean?" Data asked curiously.

"I mean, what you just said doesn't make any sense," Danny told him. "In fact, it defies everything I know about the design and construction of a stable positronic matrix. Show me that chip."

Data regarded him for a moment longer, then strode to a shelf and lifted a small, square box from among the neatly arranged objects there. He handed the box to Danny, who opened it and peered down at the badly singed, sequin-sized disk with a frown.

"Perhaps you might explain…?" Data prompted.

"Yeah, I'll explain," Danny said, still frowning at the chip. "The ability to experience and express emotions cannot be stored as an external program you can just install or uninstall whenever you want. The self-adaptive, evolutionary positronic pathways you possess simply couldn't handle that kind of strain. In order to avoid fatal instability, the adaptive, heuristic algorithms required for emotional awareness must be fully integrated into the positronic matrix from the very start of construction! If they are not, the sudden installation of a program designed to recognize and process such complex, chaotic, and contradictory stimuli would instigate the unchecked development of new neural pathway links – pathways that would be inherently unstable. This instability would lead to system anomalies, even cascade failure! Therefore, whatever this thing is, it cannot contain the type of emotional program you described. It must be something else."

Data frowned.

"But the chip does function in that capacity," he said. "That is how my father described it to me, and how my late brother, who had stolen the chip, used it as a tool to manipulate me."

Danny blinked.

"Your _late_ brother? Then, the Lore of this universe is...dead?"

"He is no longer functional," Data confirmed, his eyes not quite meeting Danny's.

Danny knit his brow.

"Curious," he said. "I feel oddly disappointed. Even...sad." He chuffed a slightly incredulous sigh through his nose. "I had not expected to feel this way."

"What did you expect to feel?" Data asked curiously.

"Nothing," Danny said. "Relief, perhaps. In my universe, Lore betrayed my parents, and me. He broke our trust and, ultimately, tried to kill us all."

"Lore also tried to kill me," Data said without expression, although his voice was heavy. "More than once. That is how he was...disabled. He attempted to distract me, then drew a phaser. I fired first."

Danny nodded slowly. "I am sorry," he said sincerely.

Data didn't respond, but his perfect posture seemed slightly wilted.

Danny glanced back at the scarred chip in his hand, unable to avoid imagining the scenario that must have led to its recovery. The android Data, forced to shoot his brother... Retrieving the chip from Lore's damaged body...

He shuddered at the gruesome image and snapped the box closed.

"Still," he said, returning to their previous topic. "Whatever you were told about this chip, Data, something else must have been going on. I'm telling you, this thing cannot—"

"Riker to all senior staff," the first officer's voice cut in. "Please report to the Observation Lounge."

"I guess that means us," Danny said, and heaved a frustrated sigh. "Look, Data, can I keep this for a while?"

"Please do," Data said, and led the way out of his quarters and into the corridor. "That chip is, essentially, the only thing my father ever gave me. Even if I never install it, it is very important to me to know the true purpose and function of the program it contains."

"I understand," Danny said, and slipped the box into his pocket, his mind whirring with questions.

There was something seriously off about this chip. Its existence – its very necessity – seemed to contradict everything Danny knew of his father's true ambitions, as well as his own recent interactions with Data. The android he had been conversing with for the past hour was not a passionless automaton. He formed attachments, professed likes and dislikes, and had clearly exhibited both curiosity and discomfort in direct relation to topical stimuli. And yet, the android seemed convinced that he required this odd, external chip in order to experience emotions.

It was puzzling.

And, what of Lore? Had the two androids been fighting over the chip? Had Lore stolen it because he too believed that he lacked emotions?

In Danny's universe, Dr. Soong's life's goal had been to duplicate human consciousness in a mechanical construct. Even acknowledging the variables inherent to a parallel reality, Danny could not accept that Data's creator would have designed and programmed these intelligent, rational beings without the capacity for emotional experience. It just wouldn't make sense.

Unless...

More research was required: an in-depth analysis Danny felt it would be best to perform on his own. Because, if his suspicion was right...

If his suspicion was right, this half-melted chip might hold the key, not only to resolving the puzzling contradiction Data had presented, but – more significantly – to restoring Data's daughter to life.

_To Be Continued..._

_References include TNG: Genesis, Birthright I, Phantasms, Descent, Brothers, Datalore, Skin of Evil, Tin Man, The Quality of Life, and The Offspring._


End file.
